Page 31 of Designing Love
And maybe… that’s enough. For now.
Especially when his arm stays against mine longer than it needs to — and neither of us moves.
14
LAST CALL FOR TROUBLE
Ethan
Ipark in front of the Old Oak. We spent the afternoon bent over books and decided to have a bite to eat.
“I think this was a good idea,” Sophia says opening her door. “We’ve worked hard today. A drink sounds great!”
I love her enthusiasm.
Inside, the familiar scent of fried food and draft beer swirls around me, along with a faint, sweet smell I can’t place. Sophia and I are seated at a small table near the back. With an amused head tilt, she’s contemplating the tavern’s kitschy décor — Canadian paraphernalia covering the walls.
She has not mentioned Daniel since our earlier conversation.
Neither have I.
She gives a dramatic sigh, which breaks me out of my reverie. “Anything you would recommend from the menu for a newbie like me?”
“The fish tacos are pretty great!”
Her easy smile settles my pulse. A waitress named Becca approaches, all smiles, and we order two beers. Sophia leans in, resting her elbows on the table.
“So, tell me, what do people actually do for fun around here? Is there, like, a secret underground knitting club? Bonfires with ghost stories? Raccoon races?”
I laugh, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Yes to bonfires. No to raccoon races… yet. But I do know where to find the best pie within a twenty-mile radius.”
“Well then,” she says, eyes lighting up, “why are we still sitting here?”
“Waiting for food!”
“Right, food first, pie later!” she winks.
When the waitress returns with our beers, Sophia orders the fish tacos and I order the fish and chips. Our conversation drifts back to our project — paint colors, salvage wood, and how to diplomatically relocate wildlife.
Suddenly, the door swings open. I glance over as Daniel steps inside, scanning the crowd with hawk-like intensity. My stomach lurches.Talk about terrible timing.The low buzz of conversation hushes, as if the tavern collectively senses trouble.
He spots us, zeroing in on Sophia. Every muscle in my body tenses.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning in.
I lift my chin, pointing to the door behind her. My jaw clenches instinctively.
Sophia looks over her shoulder. She stiffens, eyes flashing warily. Daniel strides forward, ignoring the hush of onlookers.
“Sophia,” he says, voice low but loud enough to hush neighboring tables.
She sets her beer down, jaw tight. “Daniel. What are you doing here? What do you want?”
He exhales sharply, frustration etched on his face. “I’ve been calling and emailing you, but there has been no response. You’re ignoring your clients… my friends…”
“Ah… I see! I thought something smelled fishy, Daniel. That new client, out of the blue... it was you!”
“What does it matter if it was? We may be divorced, but I won’t stop looking out for you.”
