“Oh my god, I saw the fight in the Facebook group,” I said in shock. “I didn’t realize that messed up the calamari schedule.”
“It was a big deal. There was a whole extra town meeting about it. Brenda, who runs the restaurant, climbed up on a table and started calling people out.”
“Man, oh man!”
“My brother always wants to eat here because he hopes there will be another fight.” He shook his head. “It was nuts. I got hit with a chair. People were eating food off the floor.”
“You’re more in the know on small-town stuff than I am,” I complained.
“You should spend more time here,” he said.
I sighed. “I have this wedding planning business.”
“You can’t commute?” he suggested.
“I guess I could. With the expansion of the greenhouses, I really should be based here to oversee the flowers. It’s becoming too much for Ernest to handle. It’s just that it feels like moving backward. I tried to make it in Manhattan and rent my own apartment. Moving back home permanently feels like failure,” I admitted. “I already have a mini existential crisis when I sleep in my childhood bedroom.”
“Is it filled with Justin Bieber andTwilightposters?” Sebastian joked.
“Worse.” I wrinkled my nose. “When my mom left me at my grandfather’s farm when I was a kid, it was super clear to everyone but me that she was never coming back. When I finally got wise that she had left for good, Ernest scrimped and saved to give me my dream bedroom to try to soften the blow.” I smiled at the memory. “He let me decorate it exactly as my ten-year-old girl’s heart desired. I spent way too much money on it, and he didn’t stop me because he wanted me to be happy. I went full-on horse girl with little horse figurines, a bed that was designed like a horse stall, framed paintings of my favorite horses on the wall, pink wallpaper with white trim, and a very extra tray ceiling.”
Sebastian bit back a snicker.
I gave him a rueful smile. “I grew out of it less than two years later. I desperately wanted to change the room or at least paint the walls a nice neutral gray, but I felt so bad that Ernest had spent all that money, so I just lived with it. Now I’m in my twenties, and if I move back, I’m going to be sleeping in the horse stall bed.”
Sebastian huffed a laugh. “Maybe then at least I could come by for a ride.”
Yes, please!
I guessed I hadn’t blown it after all. The thought of riding Sebastian in that bedroom was making me very warm. I sucked down the rest of the cocktail.
“I brought you a plant,” I blurted out.
“What?” Sebastian was appalled.
Way to ruin the moment.
I picked up my bag, put it in my lap, then fished out the peace lily I had brought Sebastian.
“The guy is supposed to bring the girl flowers.”
“Your bouquet was lackluster, and besides, nothing says I want your big, thick cock like a peace lily.”
Sebastian choked on a calamari piece and sipped his drink as I slid the plant across the table to him. I had found a colorful pot made by a local folk artist. She used broken pieces of mirrors, shiny scrap metal, and shards of colorful pottery to create vibrant vases.
“Peace lilies are excellent plants for first-timers,” I told him. “If it starts to droop, give it some water, then it perks right up.”
“Like when I feel droopy and you show me your tits to perk me right up,” he said with a smirk.
Then it was my turn to choke on a piece of calamari.
* * *
After I droppedoff Ernest’s dinner and picked up Baxter, which earned a number of complaints from Sebastian, he drove us into the city.
“Normally, I take the train,” I told him, settling back into his fancy sports car, “but this is riding in style.”
I fiddled with his radio, and pop music blared out of the speakers.
