Instead of looking surprised by my gluttony, she looks delighted. After all, a bigger check means a bigger tip. “It comes with a baked potato and peas.”
I love peas, but they’re also my nemesis due to their rollability. “Can I get the peas in a bowl on the side?” I ask. She nods her head and walks away.
“Why not get something else if you don’t like peas?” Thomas asks.
“I love peas,” I assure him.
“Then why on the side?”
There’s no getting out of telling him now. “I don’t like them rolling all over my plate.”
“Ah,” he laughs. “You don’t want them touching your other food.” Before I can ask if he has the same predilection, he says, “My sister is the same way.”
“What else doesn’t your sister like?” I wonder if maybe she might be on the spectrum, too. That would actually be great for me because then Thomas would be used to people with differences.
“She doesn’t like root beer,” he says. “She says it tastes like medicine. And she thinks mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste.”
I like root beer and mint chocolate, so I’m going to need something more. “Anything else?”
Thomas thinks for a moment before answering, “Humidity?”
Clearly he’s not going to give me what I want. Which would be a deep-rooted hatred of whistling, a revulsion to nut chewers, an almost homicidal reaction to bubble gum poppers … The list goes on and on. I finally ask, “Is your sister older or younger?”
He smiles fondly as though he’s imagining her face. “Vivie is four years younger than me. She’s an artist.”
“An artist?” I ask. “Like a working artist or a hobby?”
“Working artist,” he says. “She has paintings hanging all over the city.”
“Wow, that’s impressive. It’s hard to become known in that field.”
“She’s kind of a prodigy,” Thomas tells me proudly. “She painted a piece in junior high school that won an award. It got some media attention, and one of the big bank buildings on Wall Street saw it. They wanted to buy it for their lobby, but my parents wouldn’t let Vivie sell it.”
“That’s amazing!” I say excitedly.
“They hired Vivie to paint another one for them. She’s been doing commission work since, but she also creates and shows her own collections.”
“Thomas,” I tell him, “that’s truly incredible. I’ve never known anyone like that.”
“My sister is one of a kind. You’d like her.”
Before I can reply, we both hear the very stern voice of the woman responsible for us sitting on the same side of the booth. “Thomas.Ms. Harper.” Yay. It’s Constance. She says my name like she’s cursing me to the depths of hell. My blood positively runs cold.
Thomas turns his head around so fast he almost bangs into my nose. “Constance, how are you?”
Her left eyebrow raises up at the same time the left side of her mouth does. She’s full-on sneering at us. “You’re datingFinley Harper?” she demands. She makes it sound like I’m the human version of chopped liver. And not pricey pâte, either.
“Blissfully,” he tells her. “Is that a problem?” I can practically feel the anger radiating off Thomas. Instead of a mic drop, his question feels more like a gauntlet drop. Like he’s marched onto the battlefield and won’t leave without a victory. Although, I’m afraid he’s stepped on a land mine and we’re all going to get blown to smithereens as soon as he lifts his foot. That woman is unhinged.
Instead of answering his question, Constance demands, “Where did you meet her?”
“We met through you,” Thomas tells her.
Constance shakes her head vigorously. “But you didn’t work well together …”
I decide it’s time to enter the fray. “We do now. And honestly, we owe our happiness to you, Constance.”
Steam is practically rising from her ears. I have never enjoyed putting someone in their place as much as I currently am. “I didn’t get you together,” Constance growls. “I hired you to take Thomas’s picture and you bungled the job horribly.”
