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Ben looked me up and down and whistled at my heated demeanor. “I guess I caught you in a bad mood. I wanted to talk about the integration. Is everything still set for the launch date?”
“We’re ahead of schedule.” I fell into my seat, taking deep breaths in through my nose to calm my rapid heartbeats.
“Thank god.” He shook his head and leaned back in the chair opposite my desk. “You know, I had my doubts about this launch. The board had these idealistic deadlines, and I wasn’t sure we could do it. But you and Charlie make a great team. Not many people have the ability to make you better, but she somehow does.”
His words unknowingly sliced right through my chest. “She’s great at what she does.”
“You can say that again.”
Gears turned in my mind. An idea formed—a bad one with no concrete plan, ending, or goal—but an idea, nonetheless.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” I asked.
Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Probably a microwave meal by myself. Skylar is out of town visiting her parents.”
“Let’s do dinner.”
His gaze turned critical as he assessed me. “I don’t think you’ve ever invited me to dinner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.
“Nope. I’m serious. In our near decade of comradery, I don’t think you’ve ever invited me to a non-work-sanctioned activity.”
“Of course I have,” I insisted. Although, he was probably right. I didn’t tend to actively promote socializing if I could help it.
“I don’t think you have—”
“Do you want to go or not?” I asked, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.
Ben shrugged. “Who am I to turn down such a historical invitation?”
Minuteslater we walked through the extravagant double doors of Pastellini. Candles flickered all around us, welcoming us into the intimate, dimly lit space.
“Bit romantic,” Ben said as we approached the host. “You trying to tell me something?”
I ignored his snickering and turned to the woman in all-black at the entrance. “Two please.”
We followed her to a table in the middle of the restaurant. Jerking my head around, I assessed each booth we passed, looking for one face in particular.
“Jesus, what’s got you so on edge?” Ben asked as we took our seats.
“Nothing.” My voice came out gruff, and I forced myself to stop craning my neck to examine every inch of the restaurant.
He held up his hands. “You’re right. My bad. You seem very at ease.”
Twenty minutes later, we were both half done with our drinks, and I still saw no sign of Charlie and Liam. Had I misheard them? Did they decide to go to a different restaurant? I snuck another glance behind my back just in case I had missed them entering.
“What do you think about that, Nathan?”
I turned back around and blinked at Ben. “That sounds fine,” I said.
He chuckled in response. “What’s with you, dude? You’re hardly paying attention to anything I’m saying, and you’re looking around this place like a hitman has a bounty on your head. I just asked if we should donate the entire year’s revenue to a charity.”
Rolling my eyes, I took a large sip of my old-fashioned. “I heard you. Why warrant such a ridiculous question with a real response?”
“Whatever,” he said.
A new couple entered the restaurant, and I jerked my gaze to the front. I’d recognize that tangled head of hair anywhere. They followed the host into the restaurant and were headed our way. She’d have to walk right by me.
