Page 42 of A Really Bad Idea

“Slim,” Christian answers with a genuine smile.

Standing behind Frank is a little redhead wearing a fifties-style dress with cherries on it.

Frank pulls her into his side. “We were just about to sit down, and I looked over here and couldn’t believe my eyes. Vicki, these are my friends from high school.”

“Nice to meet you,” the girl nestled into the crook of his arm says with no evidence of her being offended by his cologne, which is making my nose tickle.

“Vicki and I have been talkin’ online for a few weeks and finally met. Romantic place here, ya know. What’s up with you two? Are you …” Frank motions with his head back and forth between me and Christian. His mouth is turned down in that way Italians do when they’re asking you a question that is rather personal.

“We’re just enjoying dinner,” I answer matter-of-factly.

I don’t miss the way Christian pulls his hand back toward him.

“That’s too bad,” Frank says and then turns to Vicki. “These two beautiful people are the only ones on the planet who don’t think they should be together. In high school, we were waiting for them to date, but they were always with other people.”

“You seem like a lovely couple,” Vicki drawls.

“We’re not a couple,” I answer, pushing the air in between me and Christian away, as if distancing myself from him. “Just two friends enjoying some fine Italian cuisine. We like to share food. And scotch. And look at pretty views. But definitely not a couple.” I nod for good measure and then swallow down how much I feel like a fool right now. Not for being with Christian. For pretending I’m not with Christian.

Frank and Vicki are looking at me with blank stares and wrinkly foreheads.

“You two though make a great couple,” I add. “We’re taking up too much of your time. Enjoy your first date. May it be the first of many.” I raise my glass in salute and then take a swig. It’s a big swig because I’m now coughing.

“It’s nice seeing you.” Christian nods to them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vicki.”

Frank is petting his stomach as he looks at me with a furrowed brow. Vicki gives a closed-mouth smile as she steps out of Frank’s arm and wraps her elbow with his. They walk away toward the opposite side of the room.

As soon as they are clear of our table, I lean back and feel the relief of having them far away. When I look at Christian, his gaze is focused on the waiter as he calls him over.

“The couple who was just here—the gentleman with dark hair and the woman with cherries on her dress—send a bottle of champagne to their table and add it to my bill.”

The waiter nods at the request and scurries off, leaving just me and Christian—and his very serious stare. The stare isn’t accompanied by words. No, it’s more powerful than that. It’s like laser beams being tossed like daggers into my chest as he sits in silence, patient and pining.

I have the undeniable feeling that I hurt his feelings. It’s confirmed when he finally speaks.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, and that’s the first time I’ve ever felt like it embarrasses you to be with me.”

“I panicked. It was childish.” I let out an apologetic breath. “I’m sorry.”

He tightens his jaw, the muscle protruding through the skin. “If we’re gonna do this, everyone will know we have been more than friends—at least for a night.”

“It’s just that this—what’s happening between us—is big. I don’t want the entire world to know. Not yet.”

“You haven’t told anyone?” he asks with a raised brow.

“No,” I answer.

He nods in understanding.

“You?”

With a shake of his head, he replies, “Not yet.” He’s looking down at his hands. They’re intertwined with his thumbs running circles around the other. It’s an odd pose for the usual confident man.

I lay my fingers against the back of his hand and rub gently. His hands turn toward mine. Sliding my palms against his, I feel the smooth skin of a man who saves people for a living. They’re strong hands, large and holding my tiny ones like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I massage lazy circles along the lifeline, my heart beating through the vein in my thumb, pulsating into his.

He looks up at me, his golden skin looking ethereal in the candlelight. I bite my lip and inhale shakily. His smile is one of understanding, as are the soft features of his gaze.

“You ready to go?” he asks.