Page 41 of A Cure for Recovery

“You picked a ring. You showed me the ring! Why have you not proposed?”

Noah sighs and flops back against his side of the booth. “I don’t know. I just…”

“Keep in mind that there’s no answer you can give here that I’ll respect.”

Noah scowls. “Fuck you. I’m nervous.”

“Aboutwhat?”

“Dude, getting married is abig deal. It’s normal to be nervous.”

Tommy scoffs.

“It’s normal for normal people to be nervous. Just ‘cause you’re some kinda Jane Austen character pining your whole life for your one true love or whatever doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t go about it the normal fucking way.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a Jane Austen character.”

Noah grins. “I want Anne Hathaway to play you in the movie of your life.”

“Fuck you.”

There’s a couple in the booth behind Noah, and the woman turns around to glare at them. Oops. They’re being loud.

“See?” Noah says. “You’re so dramatic, your story was made for the big screen.”

“Yeah, and yours is for a shitty advice column. Stop trying to sidetrack me.”

Someone arrives beside their table with a squeak of shoe soles and a rustle of cloth, and a familiar, large hand settles on Tommy’s shoulder. He scoots deeper into the booth so Lawson can slide in beside him, not even needing to double-check that it’s him.

“Sidetrack you from what?” Lawson asks. A glance proves he’s carrying his blazer, and he hooks it on the corner of the booth so he can unbutton and roll up his sleeves.

Tommy watches, not caring that Noah’s there, enjoying the pleasant prickling of his skin as he watches Lawson expose his strong forearms, tendons flexing, long fingers nimble on the shirt cuffs. “Noah’s too big a chickenshit to propose to Nat.”

“Oh, dude.” Lawson points at Noah across the table. “I saw that yesterday. Where’s the ring? What the hell?”

Tommy leans in to stage whisper, “He’s nervous.”

“About what?” Lawson picks up the last third of Tommy’s burger and sniffs it. “Damn, is this two kinds of bacon?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing.”

Lawson takes a bite and talks around it. “She’s gonna say yes,” he tells Noah. “You understand that that’s a foregone conclusion, right?” He swallows and says, “Oh my God, this is the best burger I’ve ever tasted.”

“We’re coming back for dinner.”

“Oh, definitely.” To Noah: “So maybeyou’rethe one having second thoughts.”

“What? No.”

“Is it ‘cause her dad’s in jail?” Lawson presses, and offers the burger back.

Tommy shakes his head. “No, I’m done.”

“Or because she used to make sweet, beautiful love to your brother?”

Tommy and Noah make matching sounds of disgust. Tommy elbows Lawson hard, and he laughs and ducks away. “That never happened. You know thatneverhappened.”

Lawson’s still laughing as he polishes off his burger and wipes his hands and face with a paper towel from the roll on the table, then pushes the basket aside and folds his arms on the edge of the table. “Okay, look, I’ll be serious for a second: you guys don’t have to get married. It’s not the be-all, end-all ultimate pinnacle of a romantic relationship or whatever.”

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