My fist tightens around a fork, and Zia’s hand settles over mine.
“Seven years is a long time. Ian is not the same person he used to be.” Zia says this as if she thinks the history lesson I shared with her while we walked to our table was nothing more than silly high school drama. But Zia wasn’t the one who watchedhelplessly as Paige picked up the fragments of her broken heart piece by piece after Ian crushed it.
Zia offers me my menu as if it will take my mind off what is happening outside. “Trust me—he’ll talk her around.”
My stomach churns, and not just because I’m looking at pictures of curry plates that are far too mushy for my palate. I know Paige. And I do not want Ian, of all people,talking her aroundto anything. Paige is strong and smart and won’t put up with crap, but she also has the most forgiving heart I know and is prone to seeing the best in others.
Even people who don’t deserve it. People like Ian.
Just when I think I can’t wait inside the restaurant any longer, the door opens, and Ian walks through with Paige. He’s smiling as they walk toward us, and his hand rests briefly on the small of Paige’s back, leading her forward. I grip my utensils, hearing them clank against one another in my hand.
Lucky, our waiter, puts an arm out, directing Ian and Paige to the chairs directly across from Zia and me. “The lovely couple can sit right here,” he says in a thick Indian accent.
“They’re not a couple,” I mutter under my breath.
Ian pulls out Paige’s chair, and I don’t miss the way she blushes and gives him one of her killer smiles, dimple and all.
What did Ian say to her? Minutes ago, Paige was giving him her angriest eyes, and now…
“Hey,” Ian says, casually tossing a head nod my way as if the last time we were in this close proximity, he hadn’t punched me in the jaw. “So, what’s good here, Z?”
Ian picks up the menu and flicks through the pages as Zia explains her favorite dishes. But Paige and I are locked in a wordless conversation.
I stare at her, needing to know what Ian said to whitewash months of heartache and make her dimple-smile at him. Did he lie to her? Make up some story?
Paige pins me with a look that tells me to play nice, but that’s like asking a mouse to forget that the snake ate his friend for breakfast.
Our exchange is cut short when Zia’s hand flattens against my back. I stiffen as her fingers make their way to my neck, and she starts massaging me.
“You’re so tense,” Zia says, giving me a colorful smile, one that is oblivious to how her very public massage is making my stomach squirm.
Sitting across from Paige on a date is one thing, but having my shoulders massaged by my date in front of Paige? That has unlocked a discomfort level I didn’t even know existed. I glance over at Paige as she runs her finger down her menu with a little too much concentration. I wonder if she’s really that into tandoori chicken or if she’s avoiding the deep-tissue-massage tutorial happening on my neck.
I grip my knees with my hands, telling myself the massage is not that big a deal, but when Zia’s second hand starts kneading my shoulder, I beeline it for the bathroom.
When I return, Lucky’s collecting the menus.
“I ordered my favorite for you,” Zia says, looking pleased with herself. “You will love it.”
“Thanks.” I sit back down in my chair and pray that her favorite dish is one of the three options on the menu I’ll be able to stomach.
The conversation hits an uncomfortable lull. Taking advantage of the moment—hoping to understand why Paige is giving Ian a second chance—I lean back in my chair and cross my arms casually across my chest. “So, Ian. What exactly have you been up to since high school?”
Ian sends me an easy smile. “Well, after high school, I moved to Hawaii and lived with my uncle there for a year. I realized that I had some changing to do. I made some mistakes andneeded to work through my issues.” His eyes shift to Paige, and a meaningful look passes between them, ending in a soft smile from her.
My eyes narrow as I watch their exchange.
Ian continues. “I later joined the Peace Corps and lived in several African countries, but I spent most of my time in Uganda, teaching children English and committing myself to obtaining and distributing educational materials for the schools there.”
Paige’s eyebrows rise, and her expression brightens as if she’s just tasted a particularly good slice of red-velvet cheesecake. Zia looks up at me and quirks an eyebrow in theSee, I told you they would hit it offkind of way.
I clear my throat, hoping to break Paige from her dreamy state.How is she falling for this?It sounds like he ripped those words straight from the About Us section of a nonprofit’s website.
“I fell in love with those kids. This little girl, Kissa…” Ian pulls out his wrist and tugs up the cuff of his sleeve, revealing a bright woven bracelet. “She made this bracelet for me right before I left. I’ll never forget how she held my face between her tiny palms and said, ‘Please, Mr. Ian, never forget me.’”
“Aw,” Paige and Zia say in unison.
Ian acts oblivious to their obvious admiration. “I got down on my knees and looked Kissa in the eyes and made a promise that I wouldn’t forget her. And I spent the next year developing a company with my other buddies from the Peace Corps called KissaWater. We sell bottled water, and for every bottle sold, we use the proceeds to help villages like Kissa’s who need better access to water and educational supplies.”
