“What?”
He picks up the bottle of wine and fills up his glass again. He runs his finger along the rim. “Nothing. Never mind. I shouldn’t…” He looks around the restaurant. “Where is our waiter?”
I’m dying to know what Andrew was about to confess to me. But then our waiter rushes over, eager for the giant tip he will almost certainly get from this meal, and it looks like the moment has passed.
Andrew orders for the both of us, as he said he would. I don’t even ask him what he has ordered, because I want it to be a surprise and I’m sure it will be incredible. I’m also impressed with his French accent. I’ve always wished I could speak another language. It’s probably too late for me though.
“I hope you like what I ordered,” he says, almost shyly.
“I’m sure I will.” I smile at him. “You have great taste. I mean, look at your house. Or did Nina pick out everything?”
He takes another sip from his fresh glass of wine. “No, I own the house and most of the design was done before we were married. Before we even met, actually.”
“Really? Most men who work in the city prefer to have a bachelor pad before they settle down.”
He snorts. “No, I was never interested in that. I was ready to get married. In fact, right before Nina, I was engaged to somebody else…”
Right before Nina? What does that mean? Is he saying that Nina broke up his engagement?
“Anyway,” he says, “all I wanted was to settle down, buy a house, have a few kids…”
At that last statement, his lips turn down. Even though he hasn’t mentioned it, I’m sure he’s still smarting from learning that Nina wouldn’t be able to have any more children.
“I’m sorry about the…” I swish my wine around in the glass. “You know, fertility issues. That must be hard on both of you.”
“Yeah…” He looks up from his wine glass and blurts out: “We haven’t had sex since that doctor’s visit.”
I nearly topple my glass on the table. At that moment, the waiter arrives back at our table with our appetizer. It’s little circles of bread topped with a pink spread. But I can hardly focus on it after Andrew’s confession.
“Mousse de saumon canapés,” he says as the waiter leaves us. “Basically, smoked salmon mousse on a baguette.”
I just stare at him.
“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I should never have said that. It was in really bad taste.”
“Um…”
“Let’s just…” He gestures down at the little slices of baguette on the table. “Let’s enjoy dinner. Please forget I said that. Me and Nina… we’re fine. Every couple goes through a dry spell.”
“Of course.”
But forgetting what he said about Nina is an exercise in futility.
TWENTY-SIX
We end up having a great time at dinner. We don’t discuss Nina again, and the conversation flows easily, especially after we get to our second bottle of wine. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such a nice evening. I feel sad when it’s coming to an end.
“Thank you so much for this,” I tell him as he pays the check. I’m afraid to even look at it. Just the wine alone probably cost a small fortune.
“No, thank you.” His face is almost glowing. “I had a great time. I haven’t had this much fun in…” He clears his throat. “Anyway, it was really fun. Just what I needed.”
He stands up after signing the check, and sways on his feet. We drank a lot of wine tonight. Which wouldn’t be the greatest idea under the best circumstances, but I just remembered he’s got to drive us back to Long Island. On the highway.
Andrew must realize what I’m thinking. He holds onto the table to steady himself. “I shouldn’t be driving,” he acknowledges.
“No,” I say. “Probably not.”
He rubs his face. “We still have that reservation at The Plaza. What do you think?”
Well, it doesn’t take a genius to know this is a huge mistake. We’re both drunk, his wife is out of town, and he apparently hasn’t had sex in a while. And I haven’t had sex in a much, much longer while. I should say no. This can’t end well.
“I don’t think it’s a great idea,” I mumble.
Andrew lays a hand on his chest. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I swear. It’s a suite. There are two beds.”
“I know, but…”