So, he wasn’t going to tell me the reason. That was my punishment for hanging up. I shouldn’t care what he did or didn’t have to say anyway. Clearly, the Bordeaux was talking for me. I unfastened my clutch to put the phone away, but it pinged before I could.
David:. . . but you never told me not to text.
With a small commotion, I looked up.
Jeff the chef had emerged from the kitchen and was heading for our table. As we applauded, he broke into a grin. “Thank you,” he said with a short bow. “How’s everything, Gretchen?”
She tossed her long hair. “Delicious, Jeff.”
“Great,” he said, visibly reddening. “I can’t stay, just wanted to say hello—and let you know I’m sending over a special dessert just for my favorite table.” He blew Gretchen a kiss and offered the rest of us a quick wave.
As I watched him walk away, my eyes fell on David. Maria gestured as she spoke to him, but he didn’t appear to be listening as he checked his phone.
Lucy leaned over. “Everything all right?”
I flipped my cell over in my lap to hide the screen. “What? Yes. Why?”
“Things seemed a little tense between you and Bill when I came to get you for dinner. And you’re texting furiously. Are you fighting?”
“We argued earlier,” I admitted.
“About?”
“House hunting again. It’s stressful.” I smiled at her. “You’ll know soon enough.”
“I can’t see Andrew and me leaving our apartment anytime soon.”
“I can’t seemyselfleaving the city, either, but you’ll see. Once the baby topic comes up—”
Her eyes widened as she clapped her hands together. “Are you guys finally trying?”
“Trying to what?” Ava asked, turning to us.
“No, nothing,” I said quickly. The last thing I needed was Lucy on my case about this, too. Any hint of baby talk, and she’d team up with Bill against me. “Bill and I looked at some houses today. Nothing exciting.”
Ava lost interest, but Gretchen looked up from her dish. “Hey, isn’t tomorrow Leanore’s birthday?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Who’s Leanore?” Bethany asked.
“My mother,” I answered.
Lucy lowered her voice. “Are you going to call her?” she asked. “You should. I’m sure she’d like that.”
I exchanged a glance with Gretchen. Every year I said I wouldn’t call, but every year, I was guilted into it by someone. Usually Bill.
“Tell us more about our bridesmaid dresses, Luce,” Gretchen said.
Lucy lit up and launched into fabrics, cuts, and colors, as if she’d just been waiting for someone to ask.
I mouthed a “thank you” at Gretchen for the subject change, and she nodded.
I tried to focus on the conversation around me. After all, this wedding would be the center of Lucy’s world until it happened. But there was something about David. Since the ballet, I’d felt his eyes any time they were on me. That included now. I looked up and found his gaze narrowed in my direction.
After a moment, he picked up his phone again.
Seconds later, mine buzzed.
