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“I’d love to,” I said.
Todd lifted his arm, and I touched his elbow and followed him to his table.
He waited until I was seated before circling the table to sit down.
“Lemonade still your favorite?” he asked, gesturing for the waiter.
“It is,” I responded, laughing.
How many times had we done this? Well, not this exactly, but I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I had sat across a table from Todd, me drinking lemonade, him with his cola.
It felt so familiar.
And alien.
“Lemonade for her, and a diet cola for me please,” he said.
“Sir, we do not have lemonade, but I can have the mixologist prepare a lemon spritzer,” the waiter said.
“Sounds great,” Todd responded with a smile.
“Diet?” I asked after the waiter had gone. “I’m still addicted, but you always said diet soda was a curse upon mankind.”
“Well, that’s easy to say when you’re eighteen. I’m not eighteen anymore,” he said.
“No, you’re not. Me either,” I responded.
Todd smiled and then leaned back, clearly studying me.
I wasn’t bothered by his appraisal.
If nothing else, I had always felt comfortable with Todd and trusted him.
Had loved him more than almost anything once upon a time but refused to examine the fact that those old feelings hadn’t come rushing back.
Instead, I watched him watch me and wondered what he saw.
I knew what I saw when I looked at him.
An attractive man, one whose innate goodness only made his physical appearance that much nicer. He still kept his hair close cropped. He’d told me how he hated the curls that he had to manage if he let his hair grow out.
His dark golden-brown skin was smooth enough to make me jealous. Even in the thick of our teenage years, he’d never had acne, and having met his father before his death, I knew Todd would look the same for decades to come.
Todd really was one of the good ones, inside and out, and I felt a familiar insecurity creeping up.
Back then, it had taken him a long time to get me to believe he wanted me—plain old me—when he could have anyone he wanted. But he had. Had told me I was beautiful, and more importantly, that I was the best person he’d ever met.
After all I’d done—been forced to do—I wondered if he’d still say that now.
“You look good, Kayla,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “Really good.”
I shifted in my seat, feeling a bit of discomfort that I forced myself to shake off. “You do too. What are you up to?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
He shrugged, then lifted a brow. “I’m surprised your father didn’t tell you. I’m working with him now.”
“Oh!” I said, realizing that I spoke a little too loudly and a little too quickly. “He hadn’t mentioned it, but you know we…”
“It’s okay. No need to open what I know can be a bit of a touchy subject. I hope you don’t mind me working for him,” he said.
