“Sometimes love can feel DESPERATE,” I write. “And why are we writing selected words in ALL CAPS?”
Cameron slips into his chair across the table from me and I abruptly put my phone down on the table.
“Sorry I took so long,” Cameron says. “There’s a kid over there celebrating a birthday so I stopped to say hi and sign an autograph.”
“That’s so sweet, Cameron. No worries. I was actually texting with my friend Sarah.” That statement’s not technically a lie, is it? Even though I’ve fudged the timeline a wee bit?
“Oh, how’s she feeling?”
“Much better.”
“Good.”
He picks up his menu. “Have you decided what you’re gonna order?”
“Not yet,” I say. “I haven’t even looked at the menu yet. Sorry.”
“No worries.”
My phone vibrates with an incoming text, but I exercise superhuman strength and leave it sitting on the table next to me.
“I’m really glad we were finally able to get together, Kat.”
“Me, too. Thank you for being persistent. Sorry I had to cancel on you.”
He shoots me a sparkling smile. “Twice.”
“Twice. Yeah. So sorry about that.”
As bad luck would have it, I cancelled on Cameron the first time because my place had been broken into by The Club, and the second was because Sarah had been attacked.
“All’s well that ends well. We’re here now. But I must admit I was beginning to wonder if your dad is Tony Soprano or something.”
I laugh. “I don’t blame you for wondering.”
He laughs. “Glad we’re here now.”
“Me, too.”
I bite my lip.
What the hell is wrong with me? Cameron is gorgeous. Andcharming. And charismatic. And he just made a cute joke about my dad being a mob boss, for crying out loud. That was funny, right?And I like funny.So why am I not feeling this? I felt it when I met him in that sports bar (just before Sarah dragged me out of there after Stacy the Bitch read her the riot act in the bathroom).
Cameron purses his lips as he studies the menu.
He’s a total catch. I just need to get my head in the game. I look at my menu. “So what looks good to you tonight?” I ask.
“You mean besides you?”
I smile, but I’m forcing it. All I want to do right now is read whatever text is sitting on my phone from Josh Faraday.
A waiter approaches the table.
“Hello, folks,” he says. “How are we doing this evening?”
“Great,” Cameron says. “How are you?”
With Cameron’s attention diverted to the waiter, I quickly pick up my phone and sneak a peek.
