“Listen, you said you’d take the lead, that you really didn’t need my help. I just wanted to play the role I was assigned: eye candy.”
“You are infuriating,” she grumbles, as she puts the car in reverse and backs out of the lot.
“I’m also hungry. Can we grab lunch or do you have to get right back to work?”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Not at all. It’s just past noon. We should eat.”
“I need to head over to Elaine’s to drop this info off and apologize profusely for the fact that the photographer probably won’t answer her calls after the scene we put on in there.”
“Good luck getting food at my sister’s place. On second thought, I did see a couple packs of rice cakes in her pantry, so scratch that. You’re in for a delicious treat at Elaine’s.”
“Haha.” She rolls her eyes at me and then turns on to the main drag.
“Seriously, let’s grab lunch. Elaine and Simon are probably still at the doctor’s. We both want to know what’s up, and they’re going to call one of us first. It makes sense to stick together, so we can both hear what the doctor said.”
“Fine.” She sighs heavily, and though I’ve presented a logical argument, I can tell she’s annoyed at the prospect of spending the next hour with me. That certainly wasn’t the case back in December, but lunch will give me some time to smooth things out.
Molly parks on the street (impressively so, I must say), and leads me into a restaurant on the corner. The interior is all wooden beams and stone. The ceiling is high and antique fans hang still from vaulted poles. A fire roars over by the bar and high-backed leather booths line the wall along the street.
It’s fairly crowded, but Molly snags us a table near the fire. “Elaine and I eat here, at The Tavern, every Friday. It’s our favorite place.”
“It’s nice.” I scan the menu, trying to decide between the Shrimp Caesar salad and the French dip. Who am I kidding? The sandwich comes with fries. Normally, I’d stick with salad. But I’d also normally spend two hours at the gym, everyday, and ten at the office. For some reason, the state of Maryland is an alternate reality for me.
When I’m here, I feel like I can be myself. And, oddly, I’m just beginning to realize that I haven’t felt like myself in years. I can’t remember the last time I felt like no one was judging my actions or keeping score. My line of work is all about winning and it’s a really liberating feeling to be able to step away from that.
Before I can even tell Ev what’s good, Brittany swings by with an order of pulled pork nachos, one water with lemon, and one without. She knows me so well.
“Hey, Molls. I saw you come in. You ladies are never here on a Monday. I—woah.” She turns to Ev. “You’re not Elaine.”
“No, but you’re not too far off. I’m her brother, Everett. Nice to meet you.” Holding out a hand for her to shake, he turns on his irresistible smile. He’s got nearly twenty years on her, I’m guessing, but that doesn’t lessen the effect that his charm has on Britt.
“Well, Ev, it’s nice to meet you. Do you have the same water preference as your sister, or can I get you something else?”
“This is great, thanks.”
Brittany walks off to see to another table, and I take a minute to check my phone.
“Any word?”
“Not yet. So, I’m not sure what you’re hungry for, but everything here is good.”
“I’m leaning heavily toward the French dip.”
“You won’t regret it. And the fries are amazing.”
Britt checks back in, and we place our orders. She warns that the kitchen is backed up a bit, but I assure her that we’ve got nachos, so we’re in good shape.
Ev and I have somehow veered into normal, everyday conversation and I can’t let that happen.We’re sharing an appetizer and talking about the menu like we have regular lunch dates. We do not. I need to remind myself that this man is simply a man with whom I spent a (glorious, mind blowing) night. He also happens to be my best friend’s brother, and, consequently, our lives are intertwined. Still. Distance is key.
“So, where are we headed tomorrow?”
“What? Nowhere. We are not headed anywhere. If Elaine needs me to, I might be going to see another photographer after I check out a venue, but you are not invited.”
“Why the hostility? You’ve been mad since we got in the car to go meet the photographer.”
His question is sincere; there’s no malice behind it. He’s not even being snarky. And yet, he’s still pissing me off.
