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Friendship is why I’m lingering on the damp gleam to her lips, and the way the overhead lights gather in tiny galaxies against the hollow of her throat.
And friendship is why I hesitate to release her hand as the world’s most annoying waiter chooses that moment to return with our food. He glances at both of us significantly as he sets our plates, wineglasses, and a chilled bottle of rosé on the table, lingering longer on Elle—and there’s something in his voice as he asks, “Is everything all right?”
I bitterly wonder if my reputation precedes me now.
If this stranger thinks I’ve been such a colossal asshole that I’ve pushed Elle to tears in public.
If anything, it’s the fact that she’s been so kind to me that her empathy was too much for both of us.
“Everything’s fine, except now I’m embarrassed. This big idiot told me he wants to elope,” Elle answers seamlessly. “He knows I get emotional and cry in public when he says things like that.”
Her laugh is totally on point.
The waiter lets out a sympathetic gasp, nearly fluttering.
With quick, capable hands, he uncorks the wine, fills our glasses, and leaves the bottle on the table for us. “Congratulations! I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate. Enjoy your meal.”
“We will,” I answer.
Somehow, I even force a smile that comes easier than trying to mold engineered steel with my bare hands.
The waiter twirls off, more obnoxiously cheerful than ever.
Elle flashes me the smile of a coconspirator and picks up one of her truffle fries. “Sorry. I ad-libbed. Shall we?”
Goddamn, what is happening?
Five minutes ago, I was carrying the weight of the world—a reluctant Atlas bowing under its pressure.
And now?
I find myself chuckling as I pick up my fork.
“Yeah, let’s enjoy,” I say.
I actually might.
Just like I might enjoy someone else’s company for the first time in ages.
XI
CHASING THE STORM
(ELLE)
My head is way too full right now.
How did a dinner date turn into such a night?
It wasn’t even a real date!
But somehow it turned into—something.
Something that felt real.
That felt like I was getting to see the real August.
It started even before we got to the restaurant. The way he was so worried about my health, the gentle way he spoke to me. The way he stepped in to order for me so I wouldn’t feel out of my depth, and actually cared enough to worry about my nutritional needs and notice my taste preferences.
