When he lets me go, Monika is there with a box of tissues, and I gratefully take a few to blow my nose. “Whose terrible idea was this?”
“It was a joint effort.” Monika shrugs, glancing between Scott and Gabe. “And it wasn’t hard to convince Chad to call out sick or to hide the boxes of books from you.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know how he pays his bills. Maybe I can convince him to take one of my extra shifts then, for when you are on your cruise next week.”
Monika laughs, but it has a nervous edge to it that makes me do a double-take.
I might have shrugged it off any other day, but Scott promptly clears his throat and adds, “Well, I don’t know about you two, but we’re starving, and it’s super dark and creepy in here. Can we go next door?”
Monika gives a thumbs up, something I’ve never seen her do in seven years of knowing her, and grabs the key from the hook under the register.
Scott follows as she leads the way to the Book Cellar, but I am rooted in place, trying to make sense of her odd behavior. Monika is many things, but awkward is not one of them, and the way Scott practically ran after her tells me that something is up.
Gabe hangs back when he sees I am not following. “Are you okay? I promise you, we are all being careful. We want you to be able to relax and enjoy the night.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate that, because itishazardous to your safety to be here. But did you see Monika just now? She was so—”
“She was just anxious about how you would react,” Gabe interrupts, “and a little nervous about pulling it all off.”
I narrow my eyes at him because Monika is a seasoned party planner and has coordinated hundreds of events far bigger than a surprise birthday party for four guests, but Gabe’s face is resolute. When he turns to exit the store, my heart overpowers my mind, and I find myself following him out.
Chapter four
WE NEED TO BE EXTRA VIGILANT
Whenwestepoutsideof the Book & Barrel to head into the Book Cellar next door, the clouds that were just looming overhead part to display the brilliant sunset. Its orange hue bathes the parking lot with warm light, like Scott and Gabe’s goodness overpowered the darkness of my curse.
I consider telling him about the family from before, to bolster my argument that we need to be extra vigilant, but I decide against it. I don’t want to trigger a lecture before we even sit down to dinner.
That doesn’t stop me from taking a second to discreetly scan the parking lot for threats, though.
“Come inside, Drew. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Gabe says, as he patiently holds open the door while I conduct my sweep. He puts a reassuring hand on my back as I pass through and follows me inside.
A tiny fraction of stress is released at the fact that the long, rectangular oak table that seats up to thirty is only set with fourplace settings. Not that I really expected more people to be here; Monika is my only friend these days, and Gabe’s family is all back in Manhattan. The thought did cross my mind that they might try and pack the place with people in an attempt to get me “back out there.”
Wine glasses and vases overflowing with hot-pink ranunculus run down the middle of the table, and Scott sets the cake and pizza boxes at the head. My stomach growls despite its uneasiness as Gabe flips the lids to our favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza joint.
“Mushroom for us, and the small one is Hawaiian for Scott,” Gabe announces. “I made sure to tell them we had a citrus allergy in our party, so there shouldn’t be any cross-contamination.”
“Don’t give me that look,” Scott argues. “I’m not flying coast to coast in the span of forty-eight hours and not getting my favorite childhood pizza.”
“It’s fine,” I say, relaxing a bit more at the fact that he said forty-eight hours, which means he is likely leaving tomorrow instead of tonight. That is one less worry on my ever-growing list. “Pineapple isn’t citrus, so even if there was cross-contamination, it wouldn’t affect me.”
“See?” Scott smiles triumphantly, but it quickly inverts to a frown. “You’re still having the mushroom, right?”
“Don’t worry, it’s all yours.”
Monika goes behind the bar, crouching down to survey the chilled drink selection. Any hint of the awkwardness from a moment ago is gone, and she is back to her normal self. Maybe Gabe was right, and she was just nervous about how I would react. She catches me looking at her and smiles. “Drew, what wine are you in the mood for?”
I stiffen at her question, because just when one worry goes away, another danger pops up in its place like whack-a-mole.
We all need to drive home after this: Monika and I to our apartments, and Gabe and Scott to whatever swanky hotel they are staying at. Adding wine to the mix feels like tempting fate, especially since Gabe has only driven a car a handful of times, and Scott has never been the best at practicing moderation when free alcohol is involved.
“Probably a red, right?” Scott offers. “How about we just do one bottle tonight, to share?” This suggestion is his idea of a compromise, and even though I’d prefer that there be no alcohol at all, I can’t argue that one bottle between four people is not enough to impair any of us in a significant way, especially with dinner and dessert on the agenda.
They look expectantly at me. Maybe it’s the fact that nothing terrible has happened in the last few minutes, or that this compromise is a clear peace offering from Scott, but I concede. “Pinot Noir would pair well with the mushroom, but a Riesling would be better for the Hawaiian.”
“I’m not picky, so Noir it is,” Scott says, handing out plates and taking the seat next to me, leaving Gabe and Monika to sit across from us. He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “Is that okay?”
