Dave delivers bowls of seafood bisque, mercifully breaking up this conversation, and he watches as I take a first spoonful. One taste of this stew about kills me, and without meaning to, I groan.
“Yeah?” he asks. It’s his delivery of that simple word that is so cute and flirtatious.
He’s got a hair flip, a half-smile, even a way he wipes his hand on his apron that is so sexy.
Anjanette has her elbow in her hand and her head in her palm during our exchange, and she is now even more bright-eyed and beaming. She looks like Michael from the movieElfwhen Buddy is awkwardly trying to ask Jovie on a date to eat things.
His assistant/cook, Eric, then drops another platter of fried oysters in between us. “Last call! Want anything else?”
“I’m good,” I say softly.
Dave touches my shoulder before he walks away. “See you at home?”
When I nod, Anjanette about jumps out of her seat with an overjoyed smile. “See you atfucking home, he said?”
“It’s an accidentally shared home,” I say.
“Home for you two and home for that feral cat. Whiska Hargitay, right?”
“Yes,” I grumble. Yet I’m wonderfully taken aback that Dave told her about Whiska too. So, I nod.
“He’s kind of wonderful, right?” Anjanette offers. “The boy, not the cat. Like, notmytype, but yours? Because he’s good with kids, and people, and feelings? Because he can cook?”
I nod. “Sure. Yes. He is wonderful, and good with everything. But I’m good with nothing. Eating and loving food—that’s where it ends with me. With us.”
Anjanette rolls her eyes. “That’s where it only starts with you.”
As we toss our trash and pass by Dave, she stops and backs up. “Hey, I was thinking about taking Diana on a lobster run so she can get some fun footage while on the boat. Smashing ocean shots, hauling in the traps, us sorting lobsters.” She turns and winks at me, knowing I’ll perk up. “What do you think, Diana?”
Somehow, I manage not to jump up and down. “What? Really? That would be amazing!”
Dave’s overall tone changes immediately. He kind of sinks. “Anj, no. Even asking me this means you know I’d hate this.”
“Stop,” she says with a smile and reaches up to the counter to touch his arm, clearly trying to cajole him into this idea. “Please?”
He just shakes his head adamantly. “No. Please. Especially not Diana.”
After they exchange a look—and after what feels like too long—her pleading smile fades, and she nods. There’s some understanding between them. “But okay if I get all of us to film stuff for her when we’re out?”
He softens. “Of course. Thank you.”
I’m not sure what just happened here. I don’t know Anj well, but it seems unlike her to back off from anything.
There is a severe tension I don’t understand, and so I fling my cast up to distract them because I am just done with this misery. “So, can we figure out a way to get this fucking thing cut off? It’s been weeks, and I don’t want to go back to Boston to see my creepy surgeon.”
Both of them turn to me and smile and suggest at the same time, “Jay?”
This Jay is apparently a doctor in town, and after a few texts, he agrees to meet up and save me.
“Do I have to be sober for this?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to be.”
“A little numb and fun?” Anj suggests. “Right this way.”
I love her so dearly.
Anjanette and Dave take me out for shots before we hit up Jay’s clinic. As much as I want this arm hostage-holding/bastard of a cast thing off, the idea of leaving my arm unprotected is oddly scary, and I’m not opposed to hyping myself up with some liquid courage.
While tequila has never been my go-to, the mix with the salt licks and lime hits just right tonight.
