Ugh. “Yes,” she’s quick to fib.
Liam throws a hand towel over his shoulder and leans across the bar counter, now giving her his full attention. “That’s a shame. So, what do you do for fun? When you’re not working here?”
Before she can answer, a familiar voice rings out from across the room: “I’ve been looking for you.”
This time, it reallyisPeter. His five-o’clock shadow and quilted coat thrown over a dark pair of jeans make him look ruggedly handsome. A lopsided grin spreads across his face as he strides into the room, making her heart speed up. The same darn response she had during the interview.
“Hi, Peter,” Liam calls out.
Meanwhile, Taylor can’t help but grin back, even if she’s not the one he’s looking for.
The closer he gets, the more her body physically reacts. Her heart feels like it’s entered a horse race; it’s galloping so fast. She’s stupidly holding a ketchup bottle in her hand, so she sets it down on the counter, and it promptly topples over.
She tries to right it, but her hand is like jelly, and the bottle falls over once again. Then Peter’s hand is there, brushing against hers as he firmly sets the ketchup down.
“There you go,” he says, with a laugh.
“Thanks,” she returns.
Peter is like a magnet; Eduardo and Jerry have drifted over, and they all stand there in a wide-berth circle.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Peter says again, but he’s looking at Taylor. Or is he? She swivels to check behind her, but no one’s there.
“Me?” she says, and she can see the surprise on Liam’s face, too.
“You. The Cam Newton fan. Rose said you were in here. I wanted to see how your first week went.” He smiles.
“It, uh, it went well,” she says, her voice cracking like a pubescent teenager’s.
“I’m glad to hear it. Any questions, you can ask one of these fine fellows. Right, guys?”
The lot of them begin nodding, like this has been what they’ve been doing all along.
Hmph.
“Great. I will,” she says.
“You know, I was thinking about your reaction to that painting of the girl on the train,” he says, like it’s just the two of them, having a private conversation. “Now that you’ve been here a week, has your interpretation of the painting changed? What was it you said? ‘She’s just existing’?”
Taylor blinks. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I’d have to look at it again.”
“Well, let’s do that at some point, shall we?”
She nods, searching for something—anything—interesting to respond with, but like usual, falls short.
“Peter,” calls the tall man—Michael—from the doorway. “C’mon; they’re waiting for us.”
“Duty calls,” Peter says, with a secretive smile. When he swooshes out of the restaurant, it feels like he’s taken the air of the room with him.
With a prolonged sigh, Eduardo reaches out to pat Taylor’s arm. “We’re all a little in love with him,” he says.
Vivian
February
What on earth is going on with Xavier?Vivian sits across from Peter in Canton’s Restaurant, feeling troubled. She keeps looking around for her friend. Most of the dark tufted-leather seats are occupied, and a bartender buzzes behind the softly lit wooden bar, preparing rainbow-colored cocktails and vodka martinis. The back double door swings open and shut as Jerry and a few other waiters carry food from the kitchen.
She spots Oliver sitting by himself at a window table, likely awaiting his father.
