Page 13 of ClickBack

“That man at the party,” he says. “You with him?”

“My ex-husband.”

“All right.”

I expect another question. He glances toward the doors, then comes back to me.

“Do I need to know anything else?”

“Not for dinner.”

He nods. I like that enough to open the door. He steps back, and I stand between him and the car with my bag over my shoulder, suddenly conscious of how much thigh the shorts reveal when I move.

He is conscious of it, too.

“Your eyes were doing so well,” I tell him.

“They’re doing great from here.”

I should not laugh as much as I do. My stomach follows with a noise that removes what remains of my dignity.

“Say one word,” I warn him.

“Address?”

“Excellent word.”

He sends it while I get back into my car. Carver’s appears on my screen. I enter it into maps, set the phone in its holder, and let myself have the very ordinary pleasure of somewhere to go that I hadn’t planned.

Carver’s sits between a barbershop and a lounge with tinted windows. I smell pepper and hot oil before Jarrett opens the door. Music reaches us from the back, and I slow down to catch the song. He notices but doesn’t rush me.

“Look who remembered we exist,” the woman at the register says.

“Miss Lorna.”

“That’s still my name. Where you been?”

“Working.”

She gives him a look that suggests she has access to a schedule. Then she sees me.

“Y’all eating?”

“If it isn’t too late,” I say.

She points toward the kitchen, where something sizzles loud enough to answer. “The fryer’s on. Sit down.”

Jarrett lets me take the booth first. Miss Lorna collects two menus from the end of the counter, stops to correct an order being carried toward the wrong table, and brings them over.

“Don’t let him talk you into sharing,” she tells me. “He’ll order for two and still finish yours.”

“That happened one time,” he says.

“That I saw.”

She leaves us to decide. I read the menu despite knowing within seconds what I want. Across from me, Jarrett sits sideways to accommodate his legs. He catches me looking under the table.

“I fit.”