"Trying to send him to the ER is not nice," I say.
Lorenzo chuckles low. He is enjoying this. Freak.
"He's a grown man," she says. "He can order for himself."
"Well, he didn't," I say. "And you're making up allergies for him."
"I'm guessing. That's how people get to know each other, you know, take a risk?"
"On his life?!"
She leans forward. "What is your problem?"
"You're wasting your time," I mutter.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked."
Lorenzo cuts in.
"Okay! Since Gio is apparently seconds from death, I'll order for him. Steak, medium rare, fries. Simple."
The waiter escapes.
She stares at me. I don’t look away. "What's your deal with him?" she asks. "You act like he's your boyfriend."
"You wouldn't get it," I say.
Gio returns, wiping his hands on his pants. "What's up?" he asks, scanning our faces.
He stops on mine. I raise an eyebrow. "You're having steak."
He grins. "Thanks, doctor."
"You two need a sitcom," Lorenzo says.
No one laughs but him.
…
We finally get back to the hotel. Finally. I feel like I've aged five years. She hasn’t stopped talking since dessert. About yoga, hangovers, gossip. I tune in and out, mostly out. My brain is fried.My patience is thinner than tissue paper.
She hasn't stopped talking since dessert.
We stop at the entrance. Gio is beside me. Close but not close enough.
"So, Gio," she says, "is there someone you like?"
He looks at her. Then at me.
"Sort of," he says.
She puts her hand on her heart. "Aw. That actually makes me a little sad."
"But…" She smiles. "You’re amazing, so I will help. Let's make her jealous. Maybe she just needs a push."
She turns to me. "Rava, take a picture of us, will you?"
