Page 22 of Had To Be You

I shrug. “Not that I’m aware of. I’ll check him out when he comes back.” I quickly help myself to another forkful of my enchilada. Can’t answer questions with a full mouth, that’s my strategy. I chew slowly, hoping they’ll forget about me.

Lingering stares from all three of my friends are directed my way. Jules raises her eyebrow in my direction, and Kate tilts her head to one side quizzically. Olivia squints her eyes at me with an I-have-no-clue-what-is-wrong-with-her look.

“Olivia is right. You haven’t been yourself all night,” Kate agrees. “The Ellie we all know and love would have called dibs on our hunky waiter as soon as she sat down.”

For a second, I consider filling them in on Liam and me. But I’m not sure what I would even say. I don’t even know what’s going on between us, and the last thing I need is Jules taking what I’ve said back to her brother. I decide to keep my mouth shut for now.

“Hate to disappoint you guys, but I’m fine. I’m not sick. I’m one hundred percent A-okay,” I answer quickly, trying my best to sound persuasive. I immediately feel guilty. Olivia and Kate are the closest thing I have to family in Reed Point, I don’t like not being honest with them. It’s not like I told a bold-faced lie, I just didn’t open myself up to them. It still makes me feel like a crappy friend.

It’s times like this I miss my mom. She always knew all the right things to say. She would tell me exactly what I needed to hear. I know that she would tell me to listen to my heart, that the heart always knows the right path to take. If only it were that simple.

Luckily for me, hot waiter re-appears at our table to top up our water glasses and I do my best to gawk at him for the girls’ sake. It really isn’t that hard to do considering he looks like Orlando Bloom. Olivia’s right, he is my type. But I feel nothing. Nada. Zilch. There’s a six-foot-two reason for that, and I have a date with him tomorrow night.

Our Orlando Bloom look-a-like leaves to help the table beside us, and we continue on with dinner. Olivia and I make plans for tomorrow since she is stopping by to organize the order for the flowers for her wedding. No matter how many times I tell her I’ve got it, that she doesn’t need to help with her own nuptial centerpieces, she refuses to listen. Which I guess is fine by me considering it gives me more time with my best friend. The wedding is just eleven days away and then Parker will be whisking her away to Bora Bora for their honeymoon. When they return they’ll be heading back to Cape May.

“So, how was Bloom today, Ells?” Olivia asks, setting her fork down. We typically check in with each other to see how business is going every couple of weeks.

“It was uneventful until after lunch,” I say through a laugh.

That gets the table’s attention. “What happened?” Jules asks. “I love tales from Bloom.”

I set my fork down and get right to it. “I got a call from a guy named Daniel. He actually seemed really nice. I had a hard time hearing his order, so he apologized for the noise and told me his son plays hockey and that he was at the ice rink watching him skate. He wanted to send his wife roses, so I took his order and billed his credit card.” I pause the story, taking a sip of my drink. The salt from the rim of the glass tingles my lips.

Olivia rubs her palms on the table in a tell-us-more way. “And then?”

I set down my drink and cover my mouth with my napkin as I start to laugh again. “Then I asked him what he wanted written on the card.” A laughing fit starts so I cover my entire face with my napkin.

“The shit people write on those damn little cards. What did he make you write?” Kate asks, grinning so wide her cheeks must hurt.

I get myself under control, sort of, then I tell them about one of the best cards I’ve ever written. “In his words… Dear Sadie, the ice at the rink isn’t the only thing getting plowed tonight. Be ready. Love Daniel.”

Kate nearly spits out her drink. The table erupts in laughter.

“That reminds me of the guy you told me about,” Jules giggles, pointing to Olivia with her pastel pink manicured nail. “The guy who asked you to send flowers to his wife with a card that read ‘Sorry, I slept with your sister. She looks just like you.’” That sends us into another fit of laughter.

Olivia raises her Margarita glass. “I tell ya, it takes all kinds of kinds on this planet.” The truth is, Olivia and I have seen and heard a lot of crazy shit over the almost five years of owning Bloom. There was the guy who wanted his card to read, “These roses are as black as your heart, bitch.” That was sweet. Then the one that said, “This felt like the best way for me to tell you that you might come down with Chlamydia.” And let’s not forget when some dipshit asked me to write a card for his girlfriend saying, “Welcome to Dumpsville. Population You.”

We are finished our meals and our waiter is back to clear the plates when my phone buzzes in my clutch beside me. I dig it out of my purse to read the screen. My belly does a circus style trapeze flip. It’s from Liam. He must have gotten my number from the wedding group chat. I discreetly open the message and read it, trying not to let my face give me away.

LIAM: I can’t stop thinking about how good you looked tonight.

I switch my ringer to silent and lower my phone to my lap, discreetly typing out my response.

ME: Who? Me? :)

I watch the three little dots bounce across my screen. It feels like those same three dots are bouncing up and down in my stomach as I wait for his reply.

LIAM: Yes, you. You can’t dress like that around me unless you want my hands all over you.

Holy hell. My mouth falls open. Is he really doing this now? He thinks now is a good time to send me spine tingling, racy texts? Thankfully, sexually charged banter is kind of my specialty. I take a giant sip of my Margarita and get to typing.

ME: Who says that I don’t…

LIAM: Tell me what you’re wearing under your clothes. Is it the hot pink lace you wore yesterday?

I swallow hard. My heartbeat races. A flash of heat bursts up my spine. Liam is bold, he’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind. I love that about him. I have no problem telling him what I want in return.

Me: Mmm, you’re a man who appreciates lingerie.

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