She shakes her head. “I’ve not even looked. You and Jack go and come back to us.”
“Jack?” the waitress says, looking between me and Worth.
“I’m Jack,” I say. “I’ll take the steak and eggs.”
“This is going to sound really weird, but the chef has a note for a Jack. Some woman left it with him this morning. He told me to see if any Jacks came in.”
“A note?” I push my chair back as if I’m going to stand, and then I take a breath. It has to be from Iris.
“I’ll get it for you,” the waitress says. “Unless it’s been given out already. Let me find out when I’ve put your orders in.”
Fuck. Can’t she go now?
Worth orders quickly, like he can feel my impatience, and then it’s down to Sophia and Worth’s sisters. Finally, the waitress takes our menus, and as I hand her mine, I say, “I’ll just wait here.” I’m not sure if I’m reassuring her that I’m not going anywhere or reminding her to make the note a priority. Both, I think.
I watch as she goes back to the cash register area, tucks the menus into their home, and then starts to tap away on the register. Presumably she’s putting in our order, but it feels like she’s transcribingWar and Peace. How long can it take?
When she’s finished, she disappears through the doors that lead to the kitchens.
Maybe I should have gone with her.
“How’s your love life, Jack?” Sophia asks me from across the table.
I glance at her, lightning fast, then pin my gaze to the kitchen door. I want that note as soon as possible. “It’s good. Totallyfine,” I answer absentmindedly. I want to be sure that when our waitress returns, she’s holding the note.
Iris’snote.
It has to be.
She’d never want to stand me up. Something must have happened, which meant she couldn’t make it. That has to be the reason, and without having my number or even my last name, how would she be able to explain?
“Good talk,” I hear her say, and then Worth says something to her.
I’m not a guy who likes to be rude. Not to anyone. My mother is rude enough for all the rest of the Alden family put together. But I don’t want to focus on anything but the note I just know I’m going to get.
The waitress seems to take three hours, but finally she comes back through the kitchen doors, clutching a piece of paper. One of the other waitstaff stops her as she heads over to me. They chat, and it takes all my self-control not to stand up, march over to her, and take the note from her hand.
Eventually she arrives back at our table.
“Were you expecting something?” she asks.
I hold out my hand. “Maybe.”
She gives me the piece of paper that’s folded in half, with my name on the front, with an exaggerated J. Just the curve of a single letter makes me smile.
It has to be from her, doesn’t it?
I want everyone in the restaurant to disappear so I can read the note in private. If it’s not from Iris, I’ll be disappointed. If it is…
I unfold the paper.
Dear Jack
I’ve been called back to Colorado early because my brother is injured. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you’ll get this note, but I hope you know I had the best evening of my life with you.
Yours, Iris
My heart seizes like it’s trapped in a net.
