Page 102 of About that Fling
He consulted his watch with a pained look. “I’ll need?—”
“—Stitches,” Mia snapped. “To repair the damage from removing my foot from your ass if you don’t go away right now and leave us in peace to consider our choices for five fucking minutes, okay?”
The man clenched his jaw. “Certainly.”
He turned and stomped away again. Since he’d just provided a perfect segue—or Mia had, anyway—Jenna steered their conversation back on track.
“He deserved that,” Jenna said. “Maybe Adam did, too, if he said something that upset you?”
Mia sighed. “No, it was me. I think I was just surprised to see him there. Being there with you and Gertie is kinda my safe place, and it was jarring to have him invading it. It’s one thing to have him in my workplace, but in my best friend’s house?—”
“I’m sorry,” Jenna said, swallowing back the guilt with a bit of champagne. “I didn’t realize you were struggling so much working with him.”
“It’s not a huge deal. It’s just—seeing him again brings up a lot of stuff, you know?”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Memories about how bad things got between us. Between his emotional abandonment and my angry disappointment, we never gave that marriage a fighting chance.” Mia shook her head and reached for her water. “I don’t know. Is it bad to say I’ll be glad when he’s gone? When this whole Belmont thing is over and he goes back to Chicago.”
Jenna swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm it was in the dining area. “You don’t think you could get used to having him around?”
Mia quirked an eyebrow at her. “You mean if he signed on for a long-term contract or something? Not a possibility. Adam always loved Chicago. Wouldn’t even think of leaving, not even when I talked about wanting to move to Oregon or when his sister tried to get him to check out job prospects in Seattle.”
“I see.” She hoped like hell Mia couldn’t see her face flaming. Thank God for candlelight.
And thank God for the waiter, who returned to their table looking a bit like a man marching down death row. He glanced at his watch, as though he had someplace more important to be.
“It’s been five minutes. Have you had time to look at the menu?”
“No.” Mia pushed aside her menu, directing guilt-laden look at Jenna. “Would you hate me if I wanted to scrap the fancy dinner and go to Rigatelli’s for pizza instead?”
“I would love you forever and ever.” Jenna looked at the waiter. “No offense.”
“None taken.” He held out his palm and Mia gently slapped it. The waiter looked pained. “A credit card for your bar tab?”
“I’ve got it.” Jenna pulled out a trio of twenties, which was probably way too much. “Keep the change for your charming hospitality and dedication to warm customer service.”
The man sniffed. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Fifty minutes later, Mia and Jenna sat at an oversized table at Rigatelli’s. They’d placed an order, collected their drinks, and breathed easy for the first time all evening.
“This feels better,” Jenna said. “You okay?”
“So much better.” Mia took a sip of root beer as she wriggled her shoes off under the table, her bare toes bumping Jenna’s shins companionably. “God, I can’t tell you how relieved I’ll be when I can finally have a glass of wine again. Or a beer. There’s something about IPA and pepperoni, you know?”
“I know. That’s why I’m having root beer in a show of solidarity.”
“That would be sweet if you didn’t also have a glass of red wine.”
“Sorry.” She picked up her glass and took a tiny sip. “Want me to pretend it’s awful?”
“That’s a Sunridge Vineyards Pinot,” Mia pointed out. “I know how much you love that.”
“True.” Jenna took another sip. “Want a breadstick?”
“Yes, please. Think we should call Gertie and see if she wants to join us? I feel like having people around me right now. Kinda like an impromptu party.”
“The fact that you consider my elderly aunt a party either says something about your idea of fun or hers.”
