Puffing out a sigh, I decide. I told Minnie in the note that I’d be waiting here for her, so that’s what I’m going to do.
“Can I buy you breakfast?” I ask Antonio, tilting my head toward the door.
He lifts his sunglasses and rests them on top of his head, his green eyes boring into me for a long moment before uttering a short, “Aye.”
We enter, and it’s fairly busy today. Antonio looks around. “Been a while since I’ve been to a Waffle House. Last time was in Dallas, and I stabbed a bloke in the kidney in the parking lot.”
I turn my head slowly to look at him. “Why the hell did you stab a man in the kidney?”
He doesn’t even look at me. “The arsehole deserved it.”
Well. Okay then. No further questions, your honor.
When the hostess approaches, I point to the same booth I sat in with Minnie. As we follow her, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Everything with her felt like an adventure last night, but in the light of day, it’s all so… ordinary.
I order the same thing she did last night, pancakes, bacon, and fried eggs, smiling when I remember Minnie talking about scrambled chicken babies.
“Something funny?” Antonio asks from across the table.
After a brief hesitation, I tell him about the chicken babies thing, and he chuckles. “She sounds entertaining.”
“She is,” I agree. “And so damn beautiful she’d make your eyes hurt.”
He takes a sip of his water. “Then why are you having breakfast with my ugly arse instead of this Minnie?”
“You’re not that ugly,” I retort, deflecting, but he simply raises one of those eyebrows again. I swear those damn eyebrows are like professional interrogators, and I end up spilling the entire story, abridging the more personal parts, of course.
The waitress brings our food, and we eat for a minute before I finally break the silence. “I know you probably think I sound crazy. Hell,Ithink I sound crazy being twisted up over a woman I just met.”
His green eyes lift to mine, and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Not crazy. Instant connections may not be common, but they are definitely real.”
His response surprises me. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“Aye.” Antonio goes back to eating his psycho breakfast, six fried eggs and two slices of ham the size of throw blankets.
“Do you want to elaborate?”
His response is immediate and gruff. “No.”
“Very helpful. Good talk, son,” I reply sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” he grunts. “I spent a weekend with a woman years ago. We were very compatible. I’d venture to say I fell in love with her that weekend, but it wouldn’t have worked out long term, so we parted ways.”
“If you felt that strongly, why wouldn’t it have worked out?” I ask, genuinely curious. He simply shrugs, and I add, “Perhaps because you’re too talkative?”
Antonio sighs, keeping his eyes on his plate. “We came from very different walks of life. She’s wealthy, from a fancy society family, and I’m not.” He glances up at me. “Maybe that’s what happened with your Minnie. Maybe she didn’t feel worthy.”
I’m shocked and a little sad that he felt like he wasn’t worthy. “Rich or not, you’re one of the best men I know, Antonio.” He doesn’t speak but gives me a nod of acknowledgment. “And Minnie doesn’t know who I am, remember?”
“She could have recognized you and just not said anything. You know, if she reads the society or business pages.”
As I work on my meal, I think about it. Could that be what I’m missing? If so, I hope she comes to her senses and calls me so I can tell her I give precisely zero shits about what’s in her bank account. All I want is to feel that bone-deep connection again. To at least give us a chance.
Antonio pushes his plate away. “If she hasn’t called in a couple days, I’ll look into it. I know some people.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what that means,” I say wryly.
“Probably not,” he agrees. “When we get in the car, write down everything you can remember, no matter how big or small, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
