“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting.
“Seeing what their menu is like. I was thinking we could go early, just the two of us, and have dinner before the readers start arriving.”
That was what I wanted, so I nodded, settling in at her side to look at the menu. She loved looking at menus more than anybody I’d ever met. Bree was a foodie but not for the regular reasons. She’d gone hungry as a child, and more than once. She talked about food and having to ration the groceries her mother had deigned to buy her as a child. She thought it was normal. I never pointed out it wasn’t.
“What looks good?” I asked. I would play this game with her, even though it made me sad, for the rest of our lives.
“They have fried green tomatoes.”
“One of your favorites.” I’d memorized all her food preferences. It wasn’t just breakfast that had her clinging to routine. She had a regular rotation of dinner dishes as well. “There are fish tacos,” I teased as I watched her scroll.
She gave me an evil look. “What did I say about fish tacos?”
“That they should be outlawed.” I wasn’t a fan of fish on a taco, but Bree took that dislike to a weird place. Her views always made me laugh.
“No fish on tacos,” she agreed.
She made a humming sound I recognized as meaning she liked what she saw on the menu. I leaned in, kissed her shoulder, and waited.
“Shrimp and scallop pasta sounds good.” She hated fish on tacos but loved seafood pasta and steaks.
“I guess I know what you’re getting,” I said.
“What about you?”
She assumed I was as interested in food as she was. I always played the game because I didn’t want her being self-conscious. “Seafood mac and cheese,” I replied without thinking about it.
She nodded sagely. “Always a good choice.”
I laughed, grabbed her around the waist, and tickled, waiting for her to squeal as she always did. It occurred to me that in a short amount of time, I’d come to live for these moments. What would happen if I didn’t have them any longer? I didn’t want to think about it.
“So, writing…” I kissed her. “We’ll leave early for dinner.”
“Yes.” She sighed happily and traced my cheek with her finger, her trepidation about Joey abandoned. “That sounds like a plan.”
DINNER WENT OFF WITHOUT A HITCH, ANDwhen Bree excused herself to go to the bathroom as the readers started arriving, I made my way to the front of the building. Hayley and Nathan had already arrived and would entertain her until I did what needed to be done.
He would come—Joey. There was no doubt in my mind. I recognized his silhouette the second I saw him crossing the parking lot. His shoulders were slouched, and he scuffed his shoes as he walked. He seemed lost in his own little world.
I wasn’t a fighter. Not even a little. I would fight for Bree to feel safe, however.
I was still preparing myself to confront him when I felt a presence move in at my side. I jolted, briefly worried Bree had tracked me down and would try to talk me out of my plan. It wasn’t Bree, though. It was Nathan.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted. I’d told him to stay inside to watch Bree, but in typical fashion, he hadn’t listened.
His smile was flat. “I’m not going to let you confront that guy without backup.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he silenced me with a headshake. “No. The smart thing to do is have a witness in case he decides to claim you threatened him for no reason.”
I hadn’t gotten that far, but it made sense. “I don’t want Bree to know. She’ll be upset. She doesn’t like people fussing over her.”
For some reason I couldn’t fathom, that made Nathan laugh. “Dude, she’s in there having a very serious talk with your superfan.”
I frowned. “Blair?”
“Yes. Bree is explaining why the bullet points might not be the best way to get the acknowledgment she wants.”
“But why?”
“Are you blind?” Nathan shook his head. “She knows Blair tortures you with her lists. She’s trying to save you.”
