Chapter twenty-six
Tessa
Eleanor's text arrives like a small grenade:emergency double date tonight.I read it once, then twice, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less alarming.
They don't.
I'm still staring at my phone when I notice George, across the top of my laptop screen, doing the same. He reads it, exhales quietly through his nose, and types backwe'll be therebefore I've even processed the question.
"Can you make it tonight?" he asks, not quite looking at me.
I swallow. "Yes."
The restaurant is the kind of place that has cloth napkins but doesn't make you feel bad about ordering fries. Eleanor's taste exactly. Warm lighting, the smell of garlic and good bread, the low hum of a Friday night crowd that has nowhere better to be. I feel overdressed and underprepared, which is about right.
Eleanor is already seated when we arrive, her phone face-up on the table like a command center and a seating chart printoutfolded into her jacket pocket with the grim purposefulness of a concealed weapon. Daniel spots us first and stands to shake George's hand, then pulls me into a hug that says, clearly and without words,thank you for coming, please help me.
George holds out my chair before I reach it. He does it quietly, and sits down quickly, like he couldn't help pulling out my chair, but hoped I wouldn't read into it.
***
"Mother is out of control," Eleanor announces, before the water glasses are even filled. "I thought I was going to be the bridezilla. Turns out mother of the bride is a completely different species."
Daniel briefly covers his eyes with one hand.
George leans forward and starts asking questions and Eleanor looks at him like he's thrown her a life ring in open water. I reach across the table and squeeze her wrist. She squeezes back.
For approximately four minutes, we are a perfectly coordinated machine. George dismantling crises. Me running emotional triage. Daniel providing comic relief at exactly the right intervals. Eleanor catastrophizing at a volume that remains, just barely, socially acceptable.
George catches my eye during one of Eleanor's longer tangents, and his expression sayswe've got this.Just that. Easy and certain, like we've done this a hundred times.
We have, actually. Or something close to it. And the familiarity of it does something warm and deeply inconvenient to my chest.
***
"You two make relationships look so easy," Eleanor sighs, setting her fork down with the gravity of an official announcement.
Daniel laughs. "Don't use them as a benchmark, El. That's how we lose."
I smile at exactly the right speed. It takes everything I have.
George takes a long sip of water.
Under the table, my fingers find the edge of my napkin and twist it once, then let go.
Mercifully, the conversation pivots to Daniel's aunt and her last-minute plus-one demand, and I welcome the new topic.
***
I watch George answer Daniel's questions about the construction firm and notice, without meaning to, that he hasn't leaned toward me once tonight. He usually does. Some small gravitational tilt I've gotten used to without realizing it, the kind that made me feel like the center of a room without anyone having to say so.
The bread basket arrives and he passes it to Eleanor first, which is correct and considerate and somehow, stupidly, still disappointing.
"So how is it, working with your girlfriend?" Daniel asks, pointing at George with a breadstick like a man making an important point.
I let George answer.
He talks about how easy it is. I look at him and try to press something real into my expression, try to summon the memory of how it felt when he kissed me, to let that feeling reach my eyes.
