Page 138 of Heartbeat

“I’ll have the bucatini all’Amatriciana, please,” Jonas told her.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.

She looked at Jonas and then rested her gaze on me. “You need to eat, sweetie.”

“That’s all right. I’m good.” I tried my best to smile.

She curled her lip and turned back to Jonas. “Drinks?”

“Coke,” he replied.

“House wine, please,” I said casually.

“Wine? Sure!” she happily said. “Just as soon as I see some ID.”

I reached into my back pocket for my wallet, flipped it opened, and handed her the card. I have to admit, I somewhat enjoyed her disappointment.

“One glass of the house wine, coming up,” she said before I could correct her.

“Bottle,” I corrected her. “Thank you.”

She looked at the ID once more before handing it back to me.

“All right”—she squinted—“Liam.”

Jonas immediately widened his eyes as she turned and walked away.

“You didn’t!” he whispered after she was out of earshot.

“My parents confiscated my old one, so I had to improvise,” I said, looking at the photo for a second. “I mean, we did look alike.”

“You genius!” He grabbed the ID card, turned around and motioned the waitress back to the booth.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Canceling my coke, of course.”

“But…you’re underage,” I deadpanned.

“Yes?” the waitress said, smiling.

Jonas’s jaw hung open. He looked thoroughly insulted.

“He’ll have the lasagna,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling wickedly.

The food came and looked perfect, as always—but I couldn’t eat. When Jonas was almost halfway through his pasta, I was already reaching for half of the bottle.

“Well,” he said with his mouth full. “You need to talk to him.” He reached over and grabbed my glass before I could refill it.

“I already did,” I told him, following his hand with my eyes, which were now comfortably fuzzy.

“No.” He poured the wine. “You broke up with him—”

“I didn’t break up with him!” I said, my voice fluttering a bit. “We weren’t even dating.”

“Maybe not officially.” He took a sip. “But trust me. You were dating.” He slapped the back of my hand as I tried to reach for my glass.

“Regardless,” I said, quickly grabbing the glass while he was busy rolling the pasta on his fork and spoon. “I already talked to him.”

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