“Is sifting through rich people’s trash before the garbage truck comes a lot of work?” I tease.
“Girl, you have no idea,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch with her phone. “But for real. If you’re hungry, I’m putting in an order.”
“I just ate,” I say.
“Yeah, but you’re preggers,” she says, and I stop, rolling my eyes at her.
“Can you not call me that?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks. “You are pregnant.”
“Yeah, but do we have to talk about it?” I whine.
“No, I suppose we don’t. But when you don’t fit in your favorite button-down shirt anymore and we have to find a place for a crib, we might have to bring it up again,” she says.
And with that, I close my laptop and shove it in my bag.
“And we will deal with that when we get there,” I say. “But for now, I need to deal with this wedding.”
“Ah yes,” she says as she scrolls through the menu on her phone. “So, what’s on the itinerary today?”
“I am meeting with the bride and groom to figure out the catering,” I tell her as I pack the rest of my things, chargers, notebooks, my Stanley full of water. “I found four places that have availability who will travel into the mountains.”
“Dinner and a show, I love it,” she smiles. “Ooh, spring rolls. Yes, please.”
I’m about to ask her what she means by that, but I decide against it. I’m sure it’s in reference to the fact that I am about to meet up with my ex and his fiancée to talk about shrimp cocktail and lamb chops. Ben’s fiancée doesn’t know I am his ex-girlfriend, so it’s always awkward.
I decide to leave Josie to her spring rolls and remind myself that she’s my best friend. It would be easier if it didn’t feel like my life was being lived for her entertainment.
* * *
“I’m not much of a seafood person,” Holly says as we sit at the wine bar Ben suggested. I’m not surprised. He’s a big wine person, especially if it’s shipped in from somewhere far away or if he gets to travel far away to sip it. Wine was one of our things. The difference is now he’s fronting the bill at a fancy vineyard wine bar while we talk about his wedding, and the only wine I can afford these days comes out of a box.
Oh, and to top it off, I can’t drink it because I’mpregnant.
“Kind of ironic since you’re from Alaska,” Ben says, smiling over at her.
“In a way, I think that might be why. The main dish at every Sunday dinner was the fresh catch of the day, and seafood was always available. I guess it kind of got old,” she says. I can understand that and smile at her.
“Well, that’s alright,” I say. “No matter how hard we try, we landlocked states aren’t known for the freshest seafood. Unless it’s?—”
“Hook and Reel on 7th and Mavis,” Ben and I say at the same time, and my eyes flash up to his. Then we both look away.
Oh boy.
“Ben talks about that place all the time,” Holly tells me as if she’s the one teaching me something about him. “Unfortunately, it’s never been a date spot for us.”
Of course not. It was ours.
I’m happy not having to deal with shellfish allergies on the guest list anymore. The problem is, I now have to cross off two of the caterers from my list, and I only had four to begin with. My options are becoming limited.
“Okay, well, I’ve been doing some homework, and lucky for you two–” I start to say when the door to the small tasting room opens up and in walks Gavin.
“Hope I’m not too late,” he grins, pulling up a chair next to me and across from Ben and Holly. He sits down next to me, sending a puff of his signature scent right to my nose. The musk, cedar, and citrus blend is unique to him. He’s wearing a dark gray Henley shirt, shoved up to his elbows to showcase the girth of his forearms. His fitted black jeans and a shit-eating grin complete his look.
“Gavin,” I say, willing my nipples to stay soft. But that doesn’t seem to be something I can control when I’m in his presence. I cross my legs under the table.
“At your service,” he says, reaching for the wine bottle in the middle of the table and a clean glass.
