Garrett’s deep voice rumbles in my head.Nope. Not happening.Now’s not the time to think about my best friend. Joseph—that’s who I need tofocus on. My boyfriend. The man I have a chance at a future with. A future with happy kids and a loving husband.
It’s not that I’m looking for a husband or to have kids yet. I have a few more years until my biological clock is a concern. My main focus now is my business. My main focus is how I can benefit the community to make it a better place for the children I’ll have one day.
I check the time on my phone. I’m running a few minutes late, but I’m sure Joseph won’t be too annoyed. He’ll probably be on his phone, too busy to even notice my tardiness.
I slip on a pair of glittery-black stilettos and confidently stride to the elevator…only to remember it’s out of order.
Dammit.
I head for the stairs and descend them as quickly as possible in four-inch heels. But even then, it takes me longer than I had allowed for. I send Joseph a text.
Me: On my way. Running a few minutes behind.
I arrive at the restaurant five minutes late. Joseph hasn’t responded to my text.
La Brezza Ristorante is the fanciest restaurant Maple Ridge has to offer. It’s a pale comparison to what you find in large cities, but maybe that’s why I love it so much. The food is delicious and the ambiance is cozy and quaint, like a courtyard restaurant in Italy or Spain. The exposed brick walls only add to the sentiment.
The hostess is my age with curly auburn hair and an easy smile. “Hi, Zara. He’s already at your table.”
“Thanks, Aria.” As predicted, he’s on his phone, his back to the entrance. He’s wearing a light-blue dress shirt that fits his broad shoulders just right. “I see him.”
“I heard about what happened at Picnic & Treats this afternoon. Are you okay?”
“I am, thanks.” I hope what happened is the first step for the man and his family to get help. I don’t know him. Perhaps he is a decent, loving person when he’s sober. The key word beingwhen.
A subtle, clean floral scent wafts in the air, just noticeable among the delicious food aromas. The scent is coming from…
“Are you wearing perfume?” I ask Aria. “I like it. It’s really pretty.”
“Thank you. I made it myself. I recently started my own home business and make various perfumes and scented products.”
We talk for another minute about her new enterprise, then I make my way to Joseph’s table. The restaurant is busy for a Thursday night during offseason, with most of the tables occupied.
“The woman claims she has chronic pain,” he says into his phone. “Fibromyo-something-or-other. It’s all in her head. She just doesn’t want to do the work, so the rest of us have to pick up her slack. And she takes off more sick days than all of us combined. Hell, I should be paid extra for doing her work…” There’s a pause as he no doubt listens to whatever the other person has to say, then he chuckles. “You have that right.”
Despite the pain meds I took before coming here, the dull, lingering ache intensifies a notch, and a flare of outrage at his words cuts through me.
I’ve never mentioned the pain to Joseph. Other than when I told my physician several months ago, no one else knows. If I told Joseph, would he claim the pain is all in my head? Or would his opinion be different because he cares about me?
Of course it would. He’s never given you a reason to believe he would be anything but supportive.
The conversation I overheard is a good reason for keeping the pain to myself. Things will improve. All I need to do is take it a little easier. Soak in the bathtub more. Take care when I lift heavy objects at work.
I sit on the chair across from his and mouth,Sorry I’m late.
He gives me an acknowledging nod, his serious expression all business. “Gotta go. See you at work tomorrow.” He ends the call and flashes me a quick smile. A quick smile I’m not usually on the receiving end of. Usually, his smiles are all sexy and alluringly sweet. “Hey. Got your text.”
The waitress fills my water glass. “What can I get you to drink?”
I request a glass of Chardonnay. Joseph already has a pint of beer on the table.
“Do you know what you want to order? Or do you need a few more minutes?” she asks.
Joseph and I place our orders, and she leaves. I put my hands in front of me on the table, waiting for him to take them like he did on our last date, but his hands stay wrapped around his beer.Okay, then.
That’s all right. I’ve got other ways to seduce him into my bed tonight. “How was your day?”
“It was good. Yours?”
