Page 88 of Party Favors

“From Greek mythology?” he asked.

“Yes!” I said, pleased he got my reference. “I used to really love Greek mythology. I even participated in my school’s Language Arts Day team and it was my specialty.”

“I briefly considered majoring in classical antiquity in college.”

“You’re lying.”

He grinned. “I’m not. I have the textbooks at home to prove it.”

I realized that I didn’t know where he lived. That seemed like something friends should know about each other. “Where are you staying?”

“We’re here,” he said, opening the door for me to go into the bar. It was an elegant place and was surprisingly quiet, given how many people were seated. We went over to two empty chairs at the bar and were immediately greeted by a bartender. Max ordered a cabernet sauvignon and I asked for a glass of chardonnay, since it was the drink that Max assumed I would order the first night we met and it seemed fitting to have it now.

Max turned to face me. Our knees were brushing against each other and the contact sent pulses of warmth through me.

“Did you enjoy your evening of being objectified as a glorified photo prop?” I asked him.

“It was strange.”

“Definitely weird, but the client liked it. And it’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve done to make a client happy. I once had to drive a live turkey from Connecticut into the city because someone wanted to pardon a turkey at their Thanksgiving event. He rode in the passenger seat. And I didn’t have a valid license or car insurance.”

“How do you drive without a license or car insurance?”

“Very slowly,” I said, and he laughed.

The bartender brought over our wine. We thanked him and I took a sip. Okay, a large gulp. The effect was immediate and I could feel myself relaxing.

“This hits the spot. And just so you know, this is probably wasted on me. Wine is wine to me.”

“You mean you can’t pick out the region and year the grapes were harvested?” he teased in mock horror.

“No,” I said, swirling it around in my glass. “All I’m picking up are subtle notes of ‘not from Walmart.’”

He laughed and rested his free hand on the back of my chair.

“So if I wanted to say I loved the wine in Italian, how would I say it?” I asked.

“Italian is not like English. If you say you love pizza and you love your mom, even though those two feelings are different, you use the same word. In Italian we use ‘ti voglio bene’ when you’re talking about tender affection you have for family or friends. You’d use ‘ti amo’ for someone you’re really in love with. Same thing in Spanish with ‘te quiero’ and ‘te amo.’”

“Then I ti amo this wine,” I said. I was also probably ti amo–ing him a little bit as well.

He grinned. “I’m really glad I got to see you tonight.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“I enjoyed seeing you in your element. You were born to do this. You told me once that you didn’t have a superpower, but you’re wrong. This is it. Your ability to lead, to calm other people down, to create beauty from nothing, to make everything work seamlessly. You’re incredible.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I didn’t know what else to say. I gripped the bar to keep myself from reaching for him.

“I’m also glad that I got to see you because I have to leave in the morning.”

That was like a bucket of ice being poured over my head. “Where are you going?”

“There’s a potential donor who might make a sizable donation, but he’s out in Los Angeles and has to be wooed.”

There was no one on the planet better equipped to woo than Max Colby. “How long will you be gone?”

“For a few days. I’ll be back in time for Sunny’s baby shower.” He seemed to be studying my face, as if he were searching for something.

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