Sloane smiles politely at the server whereas I give him an awkward thumbs-up for some reason.
Sloane does a terrible job covering her snort of amusement. We order wine. Actually, Sloane orders it ’coz I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s good.
When the server has left, Sloane lets her laugh bloom. “What was that?” she asks.
“No idea,” I state. “My thumb just sort of popped up.”
We laugh until the server returns with our wine. We clink glasses before taking a sip. I’m pleasantly surprised bythe taste. I’m definitely a beer kinda girl, but this is pretty damn good.
“You know,” Sloane begins, “I’ve noticed something about you that’s changed.”
“Oh, what’s that then?”
“You’ve stopped answering things with a question attached.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I did that a lot, huh?”
“It was cute. But you’re more confident now. That’s why you’ve stopped doing it.”
“I’m comfortable in myself, and my awkwardness.” I laugh. “Plus, I only really did that with you. You stripped me of all my game, right from the start.”
“But not anymore?” she teases.
“Oh, I still have no game with you, Sloane. You’re just used to my oddities, is all.”
She slings a devastating grin my way. “I guess that’s true. The whole thumbs-up thing shouldn’t have been a surprise.”
Sloane’s gentle mocking is interrupted by the server taking our food orders. We haven’t even looked at the menu, so we both scan the menu quickly. It’s in French so I haven’t the foggiest what the bloody hell I’m picking. I just point at something on the menu and hope for the best.
We slip back into easy conversation and some super-hot flirting. Our food arrives and I’m very happy to have chosen a plate of vegetables. It didn’t even occur to me I might end up with a slab of beef or something.
“I would have said something if you’d ordered meat,” Sloane says, picking up her cutlery, ready to dig into her dinner. I think it’s Coq au Vin.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I obviously ignore it. That is until it continues to vibrate nonstop. Frowning, I apologise to Sloane. Pia’s name lights up the screen.
“It’s Pia,” I say.
Sloane puts down her knife and fork, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’d better answer it in case it’s an emergency.”
Pia put us all on alert two days ago when she reached her due date.
“Pia?”
My ears are met with a scream so loud half the restaurant turns my way. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at Sloane with wide eyes as the scream goes on and on.
Finally, it ends and then all I hear is panting. There is a rustling sound before I hear Pia’s voice shouting at Todd to drive faster.
“Get to the fucking hospital,” is all she shouts down the phone before the phone line cuts.
I stare at my phone like it might scream again, half-expecting it to vibrate into a puddle.
Sloane arches an eyebrow. “Was that a war cry?”
I nod, a little stunned. “Yep. That’s the sound of impending motherhood.”
Jesus, it sounds fucking horrific!
The server is suddenly at our table with a hovering, nervous smile. He asks if everything is satisfactory so far. I tell him, without thinking, “Perfect, thanks, just a small screaming emergency with our friend’s foetus.” He bows and shuffles away, more confused than anything else.
