I don’t breathe easily until his car—a sleek black sedan that looks out of place among the aging pickup trucks in the lot—is halfway up the road.
This is a terrible idea.
I finish up and leave the cooler with Hank. He doesn’t ask about my visitor. I head back home to wash off the day and regret my choices.
My hands shake as I dial Stef’s number.
“Hey! How’s it going?”
“He was here,” I say as I sit on the lumpy sofa. The trailer is Hank’s and has all the comforts he deemed worthy, which is to say not much at all. He lives in a cabin just outside town, but when I asked him about a place to live, he said I could use the trailer.
“What? Who?”
“David. Damian. He showed up.”
“Like in a movie?”
“No, this is not a movie, Stef. This is my life and he’s here.”
“What did he say?”
“He wants to have dinner.”
“And you told him to take a long walk off a short pier?”
“I told him I’d meet him at the fish house at seven.”
“On a date?” she whisper shouts.
“No, not a date. It’s a—” I wish I’d clarified. I wish I’d said no. I could still stand him up. Hopefully he’d take the hint.
“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. We can do this. What are you going to wear?”
“Nothing.”
She snorts. “Well, that’ll make an impression.”
“Stef!” I don’t know why I’m panicking. This should mean nothing. We’ll clear the air. He can say whatever it is he still needs to say, and then we’re done.
She talks me down. Really, there’s nothing particular for me to wear. Everything I brought is for working on the boat. Nothing to have dinner with a movie star.
But the whole point of having dinner at the fish house is because I want him to understand who he is to me, and it’s not the movie star. If he can’t function at a place like that—if he thinks everywhere needs Michelin stars and a tasting menu—then we really do have nothing to say to each other.
I take a shower, find a pair of pants and a shirt that are clean enough, and at seven, I walk up the road to the fish house. He’s waiting outside, but he has his back to me. There’s still time to turn around and go home. Duck in behind a couple of the trucks and SUVs parked in front of the restaurant and wait for him to realize he’s been stood up and go.
But then I’ll never get answers to those questions that hope keeps asking.
So it’s time for my dinner with Damian Marshall.
