Page 48 of Loss and Damages
I hold a chair out for Jemma, and she sits, nodding a thank you to me.
Sybil sets our menus and utensils in front of us. She squeezes Jemma’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about Leo. He was such a great guy. You must be devastated.”
I want to say something in response to such a careless remark. Leo’s been in the ground only a handful of days, and if Jemma had truly cared for my brother, and I believe she did, then of course she’d still mourn.
“It’s been hard to deal with at times,” Jemma says, staring across the water. “This is Dominic Milano, Leo’s brother. We’re remembering Leo tonight.”
Sybil draws up short, and I smother a smile. Jemma can take care of herself.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Milano,” Sybil says. “Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“You put her in her place,” I say, shifting in my seat and looking over the water as Jemma does, a water skier in the distance losing his balance and crashing into the waves.
“She’s never meant any ill will, but I think she was a little jealous of our relationship. Leo was so, I don’t know, normal, that I always forgot he had money.”
“To us, that’s a rare gift.” Pushing aside a condiment tray, I hold her hand on the table. “He was lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.” She clears her throat. “Leo liked more than the view. The burgers here are really good, and if you like a dark beer, they have some of the best. Their flatbread pizzas are good—Leo was partial to the mozzarella and mushroom—but if you try the Margherita, one of their red wines pairs really well with it.”
“What do you order?”
“French fries, definitely, and sometimes a hamburger. Their bacon cheeseburgers are amazing. I think Leo’s had everything at least twice.”
I scan the laminated menu. It’s extensive for a small restaurant like this, everything from salad to steak and loaded baked potatoes. If Leo has indeed had everything on the menu twice, he spent even more time with Jemma than I thought.
A waitress approaches us, eyeing me appreciatively. Sybil told her who I am then. I don’t go so far as to think people recognize me off the street, though lately I have made the news more than I’d like. I prefer to keep my business dealings tomyself. I don’t like people assuming things based on what they hear. Every story has two sides, and I don’t consider myself evil because I want to purchase the 1100 block. Perhaps the way I’m going about it now would give another person pause, but Wilkins and Pitts have brought that on themselves for giving me a hard time.
“What are you drinking tonight, Jemma? We got in a new rosé I think you’d like.”
“Sure, that’d be fine. Eight ounces, not the six. Dominic?”
“I’ll take a Guinness. A tall one.” If Jemma’s settling in, so will I.
“Did you take a pain pill today?” Jemma asks as the waitress walks away.
“Only one this morning after I came back from your place.”
She blushes, and I push back a hit of triumph. She’s so...stoic isn’t the right word, but I’m not sure what is. She hasn’t hinted at all how she felt about me kissing her this morning, and the fact that she feels anything other than fear relieves me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“I don’t see what good that would do. It’s not like we’re going to start a relationship, and I don’t sleep around.”
I never took Jemma Ferrell as the type who would go to bed with anyone just for the hell of it. She has too much class and dignity to do that.
“What if I wanted to date you?”
The waitress serves our drinks and scribbles our orders down on a little notepad: chicken strips and fries for her and a burger and fries for me.
Jemma sips her wine and says mildly, “You want to date me so you can fuck me? That seems like an awful lot of work when you can have any woman you want.”
An older gentleman sitting at a table near ours looks between us, his forehead crinkled in concern. I glare and he turns back to his meal.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean then? This morning you told me I was too young for you. I understand that. Twelve years is a lot, and as far as I know, we don’t have anything in common besides missing your brother.”
“I don’t understand what Leo was doing. You weren’t sleeping together, weren’t in a relationship, yet he spent every second he could with you. For at least a year, maybe longer, he kept you from finding someone because he asked you to invest all your time in your friendship. I don’t want to do that to you. I like spending time with you, but if I give in, I want it to go somewhere so it’s worth it for you.”
