by Marni Mann
Me: Looks delicious.
Jared: It was. I’ll see you tomorrow, Billie.
I continued to stare at the screen, knowing I needed to get the client’s video edited soon in order to have it approved and uploaded in time.
But I just couldn’t return to it. I was too focused on Jared’s message, on the picture, on the idea of seeing him for dinner tomorrow. I still didn’t know why he wanted to help me, and when I’d asked, he hadn’t really given me an answer. For now, I guessed it didn’t matter. I would take whatever he was willing to give just to spend more time with him.
I knew Ally would be a huge fan of the idea. She had been ecstatic after she heard we’d gone for coffee. Once I told her about dinner, she would make a big production out of it. The timing was actually perfect. It had been a few days since I saw her, so we were overdue for a visit anyway.
I lifted my phone again and began to type.
Me: I’m having dinner with Jared tomorrow night.
Ally: I knew I loved that man for a reason.
Me: You just like that I’m going out to eat.
Ally: You’d better eat …
Me: Believe me, I want to. The thought of being there with him and grazing like this bird I’ve become makes me want to die.
Ally: A glass of wine before you leave. Nonnegotiable.
Ally: What are you going to wear?
Me: Clothes.
Ally: Don’t make my pregnant ass come over there and style you.
Me: You’re not even showing yet.
Ally: I’ll see you in an hour.
Me: That was easy. ;)
“That one,” Ally said as she sat at the end of my bed. “It’s my favorite by far.”
I was standing in front of the mirror, wearing an outfit she’d insisted I try on. With the weight that had shed off since the crash, I was now in my skinny clothes. That was a section of my closet I hadn’t ventured into in years.
I was eating. I just wasn’t eating like me.
Still, every day, I was getting stronger, falling asleep a little easier, feeling the fogginess start to lift from my brain.
“What do you think?” Ally asked from my bed. “Do we have ourselves a winner?”
I glanced down my body before looking at her. “The top is extremely low.”
“I don’t think it’s low enough.”
I turned toward the mirror again, knowing she would probably have me wear lingerie if she could. “I just don’t want to send the wrong message.”
“Billie, Jared’s eyes are going to be all over you regardless of what you wear.”
Every time she brought him up, my face warmed. “Don’t say that … he could be married.”
“We both know he’s not.”
“We know nothing,” I corrected her.
She released me to put her hands on her hips. “Well, I know everything, and I’m telling you, he’s not a married man.”
Aside from not having a social media presence, an online search hadn’t turned up any personal information on him. He didn’t wear a ring, but many men didn’t.
Since there was no reason to argue about this, I took a final look at myself, twisting to see every angle. “It’s on the maybe list, but I like it a lot.”
“That means it’s a yes.”
“You’re too much.” I went into my closet, hanging up the outfit and sliding into the yoga pants and tank I’d had on before.
When I joined her on the bed, she was eating a bag of gooey red fish that she held out in my direction. I removed two, nibbling the first one.
“What’s on your mind?”
I glanced up, not realizing I’d been staring at the floor. “Him.” Even if I tried to hide it, she’d see right through me. “My head is all over the place right now.”
“I can tell,” she replied. “And I can tell you have feelings for him.”
My chest started to tighten. “Ally—”
“Listen to me,” she said, setting down the candy to rest her other hand on my shoulder. “I want to put the married stuff aside for a second and just focus on you.” Her grip tightened. “You treat everything like a recipe, Billie. But you’re not going to be able to figure out the ingredients of this one.”
I sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“Stop trying to work it all out in your head and just let it happen.”
Several deep breaths moved in and out of my chest. “I’ll try.”
“You’d better call me the second you get home … even if it’s not until the next morning.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “You always have to take it to the next level, don’t you?”
“This is why I’m your bestie, bitch.”
Thirty-Seven
Jared
The French restaurant I’d chosen was three blocks from Billie’s apartment. I knew it was a place she enjoyed; she had reviewed it about a year ago and given it five noodles, which was her highest rating, and one she didn’t hand out often.
The table I’d requested was in the back corner, and I arrived early to get there before her. I wanted to see her walk in, and after a few minutes of sitting there, it happened. I gripped my hands under the table and did everything I could to keep my body calm while I watched her move across the dining room.
Billie Paige was more beautiful every time I saw her.
Tonight, she was exceptional.
“Hi,” she said as she approached.
It had been about a week, but there was a difference in her eyes. A hint of lightness that had been there before the crash but one I hadn’t seen since.
Until now.
“Good evening.” I stood and leaned forward, wrapping an arm across her back, pulling her against me. The closeness sent me her smell, and I closed my eyes for a second as I swallowed the Billie-scented air. Then, I felt the brush of her hair across my chin and the way her fingers clung to my back, and I knew it was time to pull away.
“Hi,” she replied, and she took off her jacket, her shoulders bare underneath. The shirt she wore wrapped only around her torso and cut low between her breasts.
By the time her coat was hanging on the back of her chair, my eyes had returned to her face.
She was thinner, but the change was subtle, telling me she was also getting a little better.
I liked her curvier.
Even though I shouldn’t have a goddamn preference.
“Thanks for the invite.” She was sitting, glancing around the room. “I haven’t been here in a while, but it’s a favorite.”
The server was now at our table, showing me the bottle of cabernet sauvignon I had ordered before Billie arrived. I waited for the tasting, swirling it around in my mouth and approving it with a nod. Both of our glasses were filled before we were alone again.
I held my wine in the air. “To a delicious dinner.”
The dark makeup made her eyes greener, her stare more intense. “Cheers.”
Our glasses clinked, and I took a drink, watching her do the same as I opened my menu. “What’s good?”
“Their escargot is divine,” she said. “So is their duck and their roasted quail. It would be a disservice if you left here without sampling their croque monsieur.”
“Sold.” I shut the large, leather-bound book and called over the server. “We’ll start with the escargot and croque monsieur. We’ll then have the duck and the quail.” I glanced at Billie. “Should we add anything else?”
She handed her menu to the server and said, “No.”
Now that her hands were free, Billie didn’t seem to know what to do with them.
To distract her, I leaned in closer, gripping my wineglass. “Next pick is yours.” She said nothing, so I added, “It doesn’t have to be a restaurant. We can meet anywhere. I just want it to be a place where you feel the most comfortable.”
She took a piece of bread out of the basket, breaking off the corner and popping it into her mouth. “Can I ask you something?”
&nb
sp; I nodded.
Color rose into her cheeks, and she paused for a few seconds. “Is there a wife who’s going to get really upset about these meetups?”
I didn’t laugh. I didn’t want to embarrass her. It was a fair question, and I could tell it had been hard for her to bring it up. It just sounded cute as hell, coming from her.
“There’s no wife, Billie.”
“Has there ever been one?”
As I twisted the warm stem in my hand, I watched the dark wine swirl. “No.”
“Kids?” My eyes returned to her, and she added, “I’ll stop drilling you, I promise.”
I could understand how it was easier for her to talk about me.
It just wasn’t a topic we were going to stay on for long.
“No.”
She exhaled and said, “Okay.”
I reached into the bread basket, taking out a small baguette. “Tell me about the first restaurant you were paid to review.”
She shifted in her chair, and I got a whiff of her scent again. It reminded me of when I’d initially smelled her on the plane, how there was such a sweetness, a buttercream aroma to her. Her eyes locked with mine, and I clenched my hands under the table because …
Even through her pain, I could still see her fire.
Thirty-Eight
Billie
“You have no idea how horrible it went,” I said to Jared, telling him about the first restaurant I had been paid to review. “There I was, in the kitchen, standing next to one of the top chefs in Miami. I was so nervous that my elbow hit the handle of a fry pan, and the hot oil spilled into the gas.” I laughed—I could now, just not when it had happened. “They stopped the fire before the entire kitchen went up in flames, but the fire department still had to come. It’s one of my most embarrassing moments of my life.” My face felt so hot, and I knew his stare had a lot to do with it. “When I left, I promised to send a case of wine from his favorite region. Needless to say, the chef didn’t pay for the review I gave him.”
Jared smiled.
It was the first time I had seen him do that, and it was beautiful.
“Which wine did he pick?”
I waited until my laughter calmed a little to answer, “He didn’t. He told me the same thing happened to him right out of culinary school and said it was a rite of passage. Now, whenever I’m in Miami, I stop in to see him. I’ve become good friends with him and his husband.”
“Good ending to that one.”
I nodded. “Your turn. Hit me up with your most embarrassing experience.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. “I don’t know about most embarrassing, but I’ve got a few really memorable ones.”
Chewing a bite of bread, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. “Which is your favorite?”
He shook his head, his cheeks reddening just slightly. “I delivered a baby.”
“You’re kidding me.”
The expression that came across his face reached all the way inside my chest and squeezed every tingle that was already pulsing.
“I was on a client’s private plane, and his wife went into labor shortly after takeoff.”
Finishing my piece of bread, I held my wine and said, “Tell me everything.”
“She was so far along that she wasn’t supposed to fly, except I didn’t know that. So, we weren’t even through the clouds, and her water broke.” His hand went to his beard, his grin not taming one bit. “While the pilot was trying to get us at an altitude where he could turn around, the baby started coming.”
“Was there a doctor on board?” When he laughed, I immediately knew the answer. “So, you played doctor.”
“That’s not a title I ever want again, but yes, that’s what happened, and I had no idea what I was doing.”
I held the glass against my chest after I sipped from it. “But you figured it out?”
He was laughing again. “There was a baby in her arms when we landed.”
“And you?”
He sighed. “Still trying to recover.”
“Oh my God.” I was laughing so hard; there were tears in my eyes. “I can picture it.”
He was soon making the same sound as me, and I couldn’t get enough of the noise.
I felt the same way about his face. The top of his cheeks, where there were no whiskers, was even more flushed than before, his eyes squinted, the lines in his forehead deeper than normal.
I liked funny Jared.
And we were still laughing when the waitress came to our table to drop off the escargot and croque monsieur.
He dipped a piece of his bread into one of the tiny bowls, scooping the snail on top of it. I watched it go in his mouth, and I imagined the butter and garlic, the thick texture of the meat.
“Good?”
“Delicious.” He reached forward again, this time with his fork and knife, and began to cut the fried sandwich. When it was in several slices, he picked up the end piece and bit off half. “Wow.”
“They make the best.” I took the other end in my hand and nibbled the corner. The butter was the first flavor that hit me, so rich that it made the rough bread crumble in my mouth. The sweet ham came next, layered with Gruyere, and both were just the right amount of softness that the entire combination needed.
It tasted so yummy that I would probably eat the whole piece.
The thought of that made me smile so hard. “You picked the perfect spot,” I said softly.
“It’s good to see you happy, Billie.” Before I could even process that comment, he continued, “Tell me about the best meal you’ve ever had.”
“I get asked this all the time, and I always say I can’t pick one.” I swallowed the rest of the sandwich and wiped my mouth. “But I do have a favorite. I just won’t share it with the public because it’s such a special place that I want it just for me.”
He looked up from his piece of bread, the chocolate of his eyes so dark when he gazed at me through his lashes. “You have to tell me.”
I smiled as I lifted my wineglass. “My best friend and I went to Venice, Italy, a few years ago. On the night we arrived, I asked the concierge where he would take his grandfather to eat dinner. For the record, I ask the same question at every hotel I stay at, and on average, the recommendations are usually superb. The concierge took out a piece of paper and drew me a map, and that restaurant turned out to be the best meal of my entire life.”
He had a piece of bread in his mouth when he said, “What did you have?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed as I realized how ridiculous that sounded. “There was no menu. There wasn’t even a sign outside, just an old, weathered pink door with a gold number nine in the center. There were only a few tables and one waiter, the interior authentic in every way. The waiter asked what color wine we wanted, and then the food started to come.” I took a drink from my glass, savoring the heaviness before swallowing. “It was course after course—risottos and pastas and meats. They were honestly indescribable, and this is coming from a girl who describes details for a living.”
“I must go.”
I reached for my purse and took out my phone, scrolling through my pictures until I found the one I was looking for. “That’s the map.” I handed him my cell and watched him stare at the screen, his large hands making it look so tiny. He pressed a few buttons, and I had a feeling he was texting himself the photo. “I hope, one day, you get to experience the magic of that restaurant.”
“You’re making me want to get on a plane right now.”
I laughed, and this time wasn’t like any of the others. “I admire your ability to move on and how you won’t let fear stop you.” I didn’t want our conversation to return to the crash or any of the memories surrounding it, so I changed subjects completely. “Where did you go to school, Jared?”
“University of Oregon.”
I had expected a school with an excellent football team based on how he had started his company. I just hadn’t considered him at a col
lege that was so far away. “How did you end up in New York?”
“I’d spent a lot of time here over the years, and I knew the city well. When I decided to come off the road and park, it felt like the right place to do it.”
“No regrets?”
He sighed, and I wasn’t sure what the sound meant. “About New York? No.”
“Well then, how about life?”
His hands were free, and he surrounded them around his wine. “I’d be lying if I said no.”
“Me, too, but do you want to hear something terrifying?” When he nodded, I took a deep breath. “I have to believe that getting on the plane wasn’t one of them.”
After the waitress cleared all of our dishes, she returned to our table and said, “Dessert?”
I held my stomach and shook my head. “I can’t, but dinner was as amazing as I remembered.”
“Thank you.” She looked to Jared, who gave her the same gesture, and then she was gone.
My eyes went back to his, and I asked, “Do you travel tomorrow?”
“I’m home for a few weeks.”
“Is that unusual?”
He shrugged, never taking his eyes off me. “Depends. But when I go, I try to knock out several stops at once to give me more time at home.”
“I do the same.” It hit me how easily I had responded but how it no longer applied, giving me the need to clarify, “Did, I mean.”
The waitress was back, and she placed the check on the table, which Jared took. After slipping his credit card inside the leather billfold, he handed it to her.
“You will again.”
“You always say that.”
His brows pushed together. “Because I mean it.”
The seriousness in his eyes returned, his tone just as strong.
He wanted me to believe him.
I wanted nothing more.
“Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to treat me, but I appreciate it.”
The waitress gave him the receipt, and he glanced up after he signed his name.