Page 165 of Callan

“I like to taunt fate once in a while. See if she wants to surprise me for once,” he says, smiling.

“Oh, so you’ve never won anything,” I say, looking at the tickets and plucking five like they were petals.

“I’ve won money here and there. It can be fun.”

I bite back a caustic reply, having a hard time concealing my distrust in his theory.

I’ve never been amused when losing money. Quite the opposite. I’m a sour loser.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he says, pointing to a small cafe.

“We’re not going inside. You’ve got your coffee,” I say, pointing to his drink. “And I’m not drinking coffee at this hour.”

“You wanna bet?” he says, flashing a grin.

He already pulls the door open for me, balancing the bag and his coffee and directing me inside.

The barista seems to know him as he rushes to take my bag and greets Callan with a smile.

“A table, sir?”

Callan looks at me.

“Do you wanna eat something?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer.

“Yeah. And bring us calamari, garlic aioli, and French fries for two.”

He looks at me.

“Is that good?”

“Yes,” I say, looking around.

The man nods and moves away before pointing to a table.

“I didn’t know they were serving food here. Is this a bistro?” I ask, moving to the table.

“Yes, it is.”

He sets my grocery bag on the window sill before we take our coats off, drape them over the back of our chairs, and sit across each other at the table.

A server arrives with two placemats, cutlery, and napkins.

She barely pulls away from the table, and our food arrives.

The smell makes my stomach growl.

“Enjoy,” the man says before asking us if we want anything to drink besides water.

“We’re good,” Callan says, answering for both of us.

I stare at him while the man leaves.

“What are you doing here?” I ask under my breath, still glancing around.

It’s only us in the bistro, yet the atmosphere is nice.

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