I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror because if I see how horrible I look, I won’t even think of going.
I grab Avery’s dress from last night and find her on her bed sleeping. I walk out softly, going next door and knocking on the door. Mrs. Drummond opens a second later. “She’s sleeping,” I tell her.
“I’ll come over there,” she replies, grabbing her phone and following me out.
“Thank you so much. The princess dress is on the couch when she wakes up.”
I walk down the steps and turn right, heading over to Luke’s. It’s a five-minute walk, but every single step feels like there’s cement in my shoes. I pull open the door to Luke’s and step in, taking a look around to see if he’s here or not. The tables are mostly empty, which isn’t a surprise since it’s two in the afternoon. After the lunch crowd and before the dinner rush.
“Hello.” The hostess comes over. “Are you dining in or out?”
“Um, in,” I say, “for two.” I hold up my hand with two fingers sticking up. My hand shakes like a
leaf.
“Right this way.” She smiles at me and turns to walk toward the table.
“Is it possible to get a booth in the back?” I point over at the booth where we usually eat when we come here since it’s close to the kitchen, and Luke frequently joins us.
“Sure.” She zigzags through the empty tables to the back and puts the menus on the table. “Your server will be right with you,” she tells me as I slide into the booth, facing the door.
My hand taps the table as I look around, the nerves are eating me up. “I should get a drink,” I say, holding up my hand and then quickly putting it down. “What if he thinks I’m an alcoholic raising his kid?” I don’t have a chance to think anything else because the door opens and my head turns to face it.
He walks in, his black hair pushed back, a white T-shirt showing off his toned arms, and with his aviator glasses on his face. The only thing coming out of my mouth is, “Damn.”
stefano
. . .
I walk into the restaurant with my palms sweaty and my heart racing so fast I feel as if I ran here instead of taking Matty’s car. The hostess stand sits empty, and when I step up to it, I look around to see if I find her. Most of the tables are empty. My eyes go to the bar, seeing one guy sitting there.
I’m about to take out my phone and text her when I hear a woman’s voice.
My head flies up to see the woman walking toward me and to the back of the hostess stand. “Are you dining in or out?”
“I’m meeting someone here,” I say, looking down at my phone. I’m about to call her when I look up, and I spot her looking my way. She holds up her hand at me. “Found her,” I tell the girl as I walk toward Addison. The nerves are running through me. All night I kept thinking about this talk right here. I tossed and turned all night, never settling. Asking the questions in my head over and over again. But now that it’s here, now that I’m going to be able to ask the questions, my mind is drawing a blank. Maybe it’s seeing her again that is throwing me off course.
She’s sitting at the table all the way in the back. I zigzag through the tables, coming to the booth she is sitting at. “Hi,” I greet her as I slide into the booth in front of her.
“Hi,” she returns softly.
“Have you been waiting long?” I ask her, putting the phone down on the table.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I just got here.” I can tell she’s nervous. Her hands are on top of the table, crossed together as her thumb beats against her other thumb.
She looks like she’s about to say something to me when the server comes over. “Hi there.” I look up at the server. “Can I get you guys anything to drink while you look at the menu?”
I look at Addison, who smiles at the server. “I’ll have a water.” She then turns to me.
“I’ll have the same,” I tell the server, although I think I need a shot of whiskey or something. But the last thing I want her to think is that I drink regularly.
“I’ll be right back,” the server says when she turns around and walks away. Returning right away with two glasses of water.
“So I guess you have questions,” Addison begins, looking at me.
“I do,” I answer her and see that she takes a deep inhale.
“Okay, then let’s start at question number one,” she urges me.
“When is her birthday?” It’s the first thing I thought about when I met her. That and then all the birthdays I’ve missed with her.