“Why? That’s your private life, all out there on display for the whole world to see.”
“But no one will know that it’s me. And anyway,I’mnot the one who’s crazy. So it’s less embarrassing than you’d think,” he says. “I mean, sure, ifIbrought home a criminal and she robbed my whole house, I wouldn’t want that published. Hell, I wouldn’t wantanyoneto know if it happened to me. But it didn’t—it happened toher. My ex-wife, emphasis on theex.”
I bite the gyro and savor the taste in my mouth. Colin follows suit, and we sit together, silently chewing through the moment.
Swallowing, he sighs. “I’m sorry, Gracie,” he finally says.
“For what?”
“For being such a mess.”
“Are youkiddingme? May I remind you of what I was wearing when you showed up at my house?”
He laughs. “Good point.”
“So, we can be messes together,” I say.
“Messes together,” he repeats. “I like that.” He wipes his hand on the napkin in his lap and then reaches across the table, palm side up. I place my hand on his and he interlocks his fingers with mine. Electricity runs up my arm and into my chest, sending shockwaves out into my brain and my lady parts all at the same time.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For letting me vent.”
“My pleasure,” I say.
“I feel bad.”
“About what?”
“Well, I sprung this date on you and stole you away from your work,” he says. “I know you have a deadline.”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking. “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”
He smiles. “Thanks. I still feel bad though. So, how about this? After we’re done eating, why don’t we go for a walk to try and digest all this, and then I’ll take you home so you can finish up your writing for the day?” he offers. “Did you have plans tonight?”
I consider the question. “Not really. I probably would have gotten takeout and sat on the couch.”
“Well, this was better than takeout, right?”
“My God, absolutely. This is incredible,” I say, picking at the french fries.
“You get the leftovers then. As fuel for later. And, if you’re available, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night with a proper date. We haven’t had one yet. Not really, anyway.”
Intrigued, I ask, “What’s aproperdate?”
“Well, think about it. Yesterday, we went out to eat at a place you chose to talk about your story. That’s not how a date should go. That’s a business meeting. With perks.” He smiles. “And today I kidnapped you in the middle of the day to eat at a diner with me. Also not a proper date.”
“What do you have in mind then?”
He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “I don’t know. Something special. How do you feel about the city?”
I shrug. “It’s good. I don’t go very often, but I like it.”
“When was the last time you went to a Broadway show?”
“It’s been a long time. I don’t exactly have the resources for that type of luxury on the reg, you know.”
