Not helping, Abby thought, as she picked up the purse that Lou had lent her.
Sebastian offered her his arm. “Ready?”
Abby smiled up at him. “All set.”
Jasper had the sag wagon pulled up in front of the hotel, with the Spoke’n Four’s RV behind it, but Sebastian led her past both of them, over to a waiting Prius.
“Wait, what’s happening?” asked Abby, as Sebastian asked the driver his name, held the door open, and waited for Abby to get in.
“I got us an Uber.”
“Oh. That’s completely unnecessary.” But nice, she thought.
“I know,” he said, “but I want this to feel special.”
Abby watched out the window for the five minutes it took to drive to Sackett’s Table. The restaurant had been written up in both Food & Wine and the New York Times, and Lizzie had told her that Marj had made the reservation months ago, even before people had signed up for the trip.
“Piersall, party of two,” Sebastian said.
“Right this way,” said the hostess, giving Sebastian a dimpled smile and leading them to the very far end of the group’s table, past Eileen and Lincoln, the Landons and the Pressers, Lily and Morgan, and the Spoke’n Four, who gave Abby not-too-discreet thumbs-ups as she walked by.
“I tried to get us our own table, but…” Sebastian said.
“No, it’s fine.” Abby saw Lincoln watching as Sebastian held out her chair for her. She felt her mother’s eyes, too, as she smoothed her dress and adjusted her seat. Then Sebastian sat down, diagonal from Abby, close enough that she could feel his knees bump against hers.
“Hi,” he said, his voice low.
“Hi,” Abby replied.
Abby thought it would be awkward, the way things could be after the first time you’d been intimate with a new person. All she’d done so far with Sebastian—at least, all she’d done with him over the last week—was kiss him and bandage his knees, but she was still prepared for it to feel weird, the two of them struggling to find things to talk about and discovering how much they didn’t have in common, and how they really didn’t know each other at all. But, as the night progressed, Abby realized that they had gotten to know each other, on their bikes or over previous meals. Even better, it turned out that when Sebastian wasn’t grumpy or preoccupied, he was good company. He told her the story of how he’d met Lincoln in college, how they’d had nothing in common, yet eventually became best friends. He told her about his dad, who taught economics—“I was the only kid in the neighborhood whose allowance came with a lecture about scarcity, supply and demand, and costs and benefits.”
“What’s your favorite story that you’ve written?”
“Tell her about the X Games,” said Lincoln.
Sebastian rolled his eyes a little and said, “Let me tell you about the X Games.” It turned out he and Lincoln had attended the games together, and had written about them for the school’s newspaper when they were undergraduates.
“Lincoln was fascinated by the skateboarding,” Sebastian confided. And Lincoln, indignant, said, “It takes real skill to do what they do!”
When the server came, Abby and Sebastian each ordered a cocktail, deviled eggs, and homemade potato chips to start with. They split a pasta entrée as a second course, and then Abby ordered stuffed chicken and Sebastian picked a pork chop from the butcher’s case. It turned out neither one of them knew much about wine.
“Tell me more about Scoop.com,” she said. Sebastian smiled. And that took them through the rest of a bottle of wine that they’d struggled to order （they’d finally just told the sommelier to pick something nice and not too expensive）， and dessert and coffee.
“You have the prettiest smile,” Sebastian murmured. Abby blushed. And smiled. “You seem like a happy person.”
“I’m not happy all the time,” said Abby. Having all this charm and attention focused on her felt like diving into deep water without an oxygen tank, equally exhilarating and terrifying. She could get hurt. She could end up permanently damaged; scarred for life. Sebastian was still looking at her, intently, his eyes on her face. On her mouth. Abby wanted to be alone with him somewhere. She wanted to close her eyes and lean into him, feeling his mouth against her neck, hearing his voice in her ear.
“Want to walk for a while?” he asked. She nodded. She couldn’t remember leaving the restaurant. It felt like one moment they were inside, with cappuccinos and tiramisu, and the next moment they were on the sidewalk, halfway back to the hotel, beneath a sky that was clear and full of stars.