“Oh, that’s nice. Did Addie see him?” Mrs. Thompson asks.
Rowan frowns. “She didn’t. She’s still accepting that he wants to be part of our lives again.”
My attention is drawn from the conversation when I notice August is trying very hard not to manspread. He keeps fidgeting in his seat like a kid who needs to use the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
He glances at me, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
I drop my eyes down to where his legs are, then back at him.
“I’m good,” he says.
I jump back into the conversation. Rowan’s talking about him meeting his famous stepbrother, Theo Grant, and how humble he is.
Celebrities, they’re just like us!
Rowan’s still processing the fact that his dad is back in his life for good. Addie wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, seeing as he left them behind and started a new life. It’s a sore subject for her.
“My dad is respecting Addie’s space, and I can only do so much until she needs to handle it herself.” Rowan drapes an arm over the back of Ellie’s chair, his thumb stroking her bare shoulder.
“I think she’ll come around soon.” Ellie grabs his hand, giving it a peck.
Two servers come to our table; their trays filled with our large plates. I’ve only eaten a bagel today, so I’m about ready to eat my own arm. The servers set the plates down, andsteam rises from mashed potatoes, steak, pasta, and bright vegetables.
“Yours will be out in just a moment,” the server says to me.
Typical.
I’ve already eaten an entire basket of bread.
“What did you get?” Ellie asks.
“A filet.” I grab my cloth napkin, placing it on my lap. “Go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for me.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Thompson asks.
I grin. “You're the birthday girl. If anything, you should be the one eating.”
Everyone’s silverware clinks against their plates, then continues to talk about their upcoming plans for the rest of the month.
I stretch the tight muscles in my neck from the stress I’ve been carrying lately. When I lean back in my chair and wait patiently for my food, my eyes roam over everyone else’s dishes.
After I reach August’s plate, I notice he hasn’t touched his silverware. He takes off his round glasses, examining the lenses. When he puts them back on, he places his hands in his lap and slowly tips back in his chair, looking around the room.
“Why aren’t you eating your food?” I ask. “It’s going to get cold.”
“I’ve decided to be a gentleman and wait for you to get your food.” He drums his fingers on his stomach.
“Why?”
He continues scanning the room. “I’m not in a rush to eat. Had a big lunch.”
“Interesting.” I eye his plate. “You’re full, yet you’ve ordered the ribeye that’s as big as your head?”
He smirks. “Leftovers.”
Just as I’m about to open my mouth to reply, I’m interrupted by the server when they place my food in front of me.
