Page 52 of A Bookish Story

“And what a face it is. We need champagne.”

“I’m not sure you should be drinking, but I’ll allow it.” I wink.

“After all, it’s past five.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were such a stickler for rules.”

The head waitress, Doris, interrupts. She’s skilled at being right where you need her, and nowhere to be seen when you don’t.

“Welcome in, you two,” she says. “I haven’t seen you for a while, Luci. How are you?”

“Hey there. This is my boss, Ryan Brady. He’s an author from LA.”

“Pasadena,” Ryan corrects, but I’m afraid there’s no difference for us northerners.

“Oooh. So far, Luci is the only author I’ve ever met.” She gives Ryan a wide and welcoming smile.

“Well, there are actually a lot of us. We seem to be multiplying.” I flip open the menu.

I catch a smirk from Ryan but Doris doesn’t get the joke. “Shall I recite the specials?”

The specials are recited directly to Ryan, as if he’s the only person at our table. Hell, the entire restaurant. I’ve never seen Doris work this hard for a tip and I’m annoyed when I realize she’s openly flirting. She’s tossing hair and licking lips. Ryan is oblivious.

Doris brings us a chilled bottle of champagne when he asks for their most expensive bottle. She pops it open, offers the first glass to Ryan for his approval. Only when he nods does she pour mine.

“To you,” I say, raising my flute. “And your well-deserved success.”

We clink our glasses together.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” I lean forward. “You’re allowed to celebrate the success of the book. I was taught to celebrate even little wins, and this was not a small one.”

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate what’s happened, but it’s disappointing when I don’t think I can replicate it in the books I want to write.”

“Look, maybe every author feels that way when they luck into writing something so popular. You wrote the book after a bad breakup, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it again once you’ve healed. Just try to get back to that place in your mind.”

“No thanks.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as though the thought pains him.

“I meant, try to get in that emotional headspace.”

He shakes his head like that’s not something he can do. Ryan must have really loved his ex.

I’d love to have that type of devotion from a man. The only man I can ever recall behaving with such adoration for a woman was my father. Their marriage was the goal I strive for someday. He brought her daisies, her favorite flowers, every day just because and cooked dinner often after a full day of work, so she would not have to. I caught them dancing in the kitchen without music and more than once making out on the couch. This is the epic love story I want for myself someday. My father behaved like he knew what he had and was lucky to have it.

“Would you let me read the first pages of your new book? The ones Kate didn’t like. I can offer some suggestions.”

His eyes soften from the hard glint of a moment ago. “I appreciate that.”

Ryan tells me about his younger brother, the doctor, the “successful one.” I learn he’s married, living in New Hampshire with a thriving family practice. Once a season, the brothers get together for the World Series. It’s a passion they both share.

“Tell me about baseball,” I ask.

He often stares out the window while palming a ball back and forth in his hands, much like a worry stone. There’s a story there.

“Did you play in high school?” I press.

“Yes, not that I was any good. Funny thing is, I originally played little league to please my dad. He thought I had my head stuck in a book too much and needed fresh air and exercise.” He snorts. “I deeply resented being torn away a few hours every week from my comic books and graphic novels but, ironically, I grew to love the sport. As a spectator.”

“My dad took me to a Giants game when I was about eight. I was bored out of my mind and only later did I learn I’d been at a historic no-hitter. That’s not my idea of fun. Sorry to throw shade on your sport.”

“Not everyone appreciates a no-hitter. But it takes tremendous skill.”