There she is, and fuck, she looks even hotter in real life. That man really is a lucky fucking bastard.
“Cole?”
“Huh?” I ask, dragging my eyes away from Freya, not wanting to alert the guys as to why we’re really here.
“Did you want a beer, man?” Rett asks, and when I turn around, I find all three of them sitting at our table, looking at me as if I’ve suddenly sprouted another head.
“Uh…yeah, thanks,” I mumble, glancing at our server, who also appeared while I was distracted.
All of their attention burns into me as I take a seat and grab the menu. My eyes scan the text, but I don’t really see any of it. My body might be here, but my head is somewhere else in the room.
Is it going well?
Is he being kind and respectful?
Is it going to end here or are they going elsewhere after?
A million and one questions dance around my head, none of which concern me, but I can’t help it.
“This menu is fancy,” Monroe sings as he also looks through it. “What is f-f-foie gras?”
“Something French,” Rett mutters. “Is there a burger anywhere on this menu?”
“Steak?” Killer points out.
“It comes with fondant potatoes,” Monroe points out. “What the hell is a fondant potato?”
The three of them continue to discuss the menu, showing off their inability to speak French. I mean, I can’t say I’m much better, but I do have at least a clue about some of it. Maybe it’sbecause of my inability to cook and my reliance on restaurants over the years.
“Or pomme purée? The fuck?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh come on, you must know that one,” I tease as the three of them ponder.
Suddenly, Killer lights up before shouting, “Mashed potato.”
“Shush,” I hiss when every single table around us looks over.
Coming here is a massive risk. If she sees me, she’s going to think…well, I don’t know what she’s going to fucking think, but I’m not sure it’ll be good. Maybe if I hadn’t asked her outright where she was going tonight, I could have played it off like an accident, but she’s going to know it’s far from that.
“Look, you can have steak and pomme frites,” I point out.
“Fries?”
“Yes, Marilyn. Fries.”
“Okay, done. Steak and fries all the way. Do they have ice cream for dessert?”
I shake my head before allowing myself to glance across the restaurant.
She has her head thrown back, laughter pealing out of her.
She doesn’t need me here. But like fuck am I leaving now.
16
FREYA
