Page 35 of My Turkish Fling
“Well, that worked out perfectly, then!” He let out an uncomfortable laugh, handing me one of the menus waiting in a stand. “The steaks are great. Order anything you like, it’s on me! Wait…” He opened his own menu and pretended to pore over it in panicked frenzy. “Just checking they don’t have any hundred-dollar lobster or something. I’d have to eat my words.”
I laughed politely, browsing the list of hearty meals. No lobsters. “I think you’re safe.”
The waiter appeared with a jug of water and two glasses.
“Did you want a glass of wine?” Len asked. “I’m happy to order you a drink, but I like to keep a clear head. Especially on a first… date.”
Oh, great. How could I drink if he wasn’t drinking? I shook my head. “A clear head sounds good.”
It was a good call. Neither of us evidently needed social lubricants. Although, one glass of wine might have made his jokes funnier.
He ordered the rump steak, and I chose the chicken salad, my second one today. Oh, dear. I could compare it to the one I’d made for lunch at home.
Len picked up the conversational ball, asking polite questions about my career, carefully avoiding the topic of marriage. After a moment, a swell of cheers carried from the bar, drowning our voices. The home team must have scored.
“Sorry about the racket,” he said, glancing at the bar. “I forgot about the game.”
“It’s good,” I assured him. “Like a smoke screen, right? Nobody will pay any attention to us.” I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. “I bet these are all locals. Someone might know you.”
His shoulders tightened. “You’re right. But it’s even more likely they’ll recognize you. Sorry, I should have considered that.”
“Well, we agreed to meet in public. There’s always a risk. How are you finding it? Being known by people, I mean.”
He smiled. “I’m not that well known, honestly. Most people don’t go to church anymore. Even people I’ve married don’t always recognize me. I prefer it that way. Fame is a double-edged sword, which I’m sure you know.”
He peered at me, as if gauging my attitudes towards the subject.
“I know.” I took a sip of water. “I’m hoping people eventually forget my face and I can live my life under the radar again.”
“I saw your face in the paper on Thursday.” He winced.
I nodded, remembering the article about Shaun. They’d put my face in the side column, in a little ex-wife explainer box. I hated this side of publicity, but did I truly want to get out? In the last year, I’d organized several interviews for myself, desperately trying to project a positive image out there. You could only do that by giving them another story, one where I was the main character. If I was completely honest with myself, I didn’t want out as much as I wanted control. But it seemed I wasn’t willing to be honest with Len.
The waiter returned with a tall candle and clicked his lighter over it several times until the flame finally appeared. So, he’d figured out this was a first date, and since alcohol was not consumed, soft candlelight would work as beer goggles.
When he left, I took a deep breath, reaching for my brave. “We’re both old enough to say what we mean, right?”
Len cleared his throat and cocked his head, assuming an expression he probably used at work. The compassionate listening face. “And what is you want to say, Janie?”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see through the act. On the surface,he seemed genuine, but somehow impenetrable. Unshakable.
“What was your marriage like? If your wife hadn’t died, would you still be together?”
Len jerked back, gripping the side of the table. “Um… yes, probably. It wasn’t perfect, but divorce wasn’t an option.”
“So, you’d never divorce?”
He shook his head very slowly, holding my gaze. “I don’t see that as an option. But I’m not judging you. Or anyone else.”
“It wasn’t my choice,” I said, my voice small.
He reached across the table and took my hand, stroking it gently. “I know, Janie. I know.”
My eyes threatened to tear up. Trying not to blink, I turned to look out the window. And that’s when I saw Emir.
Chapter 17
Emir
