On Second Thought
Page 43
I missed it here.
“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat, “why don’t you change, Lizzie? The bathroom’s down the hall.”
* * *
An hour later, we had some great photos of the chameleonlike Lizzie, who’d opted for some very well-done Kabuki-style makeup; white skin, white lashes, black eye shadow and red, red lips. Daniel sighed wearily, muttered something about how she was playing with dolls not that long ago and stared out the window.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said when she was back in her street clothes. “Here’s your check. Totally worth it.”
Daniel reached over, ripped up the check and said, “I got this.”
“Really? Daniel! Just when I thought I hated you, I totally love you.” She punched him in the stomach. Fondly.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m putting you in a cab.”
“Mom thinks you’re coming for dinner.”
“I’m not. I’m taking her out.” He jerked his head at me.
“You are?” I asked.
“Yeah. You free?”
“That was beautiful, Daniel,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got game, big bro.”
“Shut up. Her husband just died.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” Lizzie said, covering her mouth with her hand.
I shrugged, a little sad that the specter of my widowhood had been brought in. “Thanks.”
Daniel looked at me. “Can I buy you dinner? Since you put up with me and my sister all day long? If you don’t have plans, that is.”
I hesitated. It sounded a little...date-ish. Then again, it was just Daniel the Hot Firefighter, and I’d aged out of False Alarm status fifteen years ago. “That would be nice,” I said.
He smiled, and a lovely warmth filled my chest.
I wasn’t sure that was allowed for a grieving widow, but it sure felt good.
We put Lizzie and her suitcase in a cab, and I assured her I’d get her the photos as soon as possible. I waved as she drove off. “Great girl,” I said.
“Ah, she’s not horrible, anyway.”
“Didn’t you use the words perfect and angelic?”
He laughed. “Maybe. You think she can be a model?”
“I don’t know. I mean, in my opinion, sure. She has a lot of looks, understands angles, and she’s definitely beautiful.”
“She’s watched that dumb modeling show since the beginning of time.”
“I also watch that show. That’s quality television.”
He looked down at me and grinned. “Wanna go to Porto’s? I’m starving.”
The old hangout where Paige and I had spent so many evenings. “Sure.”
A soft spring night, walking through my old neighborhood with Daniel the Hot Firefighter, who was not just hot but insisted on carrying my stuff, really good Italian food ahead...it was a field trip from my life. I could feel the sadness waiting for me once I crossed the Harlem River and headed back to Cambry-on-Hudson, but for now...for now, I was okay.
Porto’s was exactly the same, thank God. It was still pretty early, before six, so we got a table. “Good to see you,” Al said, the eponymous owner. “You want wine?”
“Um...sure.”
“I’ll get the wine list.” He squeezed my shoulder—maybe someone had told him about Nathan—and walked away.
This would be my first alcohol since Nathan had died. Four weeks. Now that it was really, really proven that I wasn’t pregnant, I could have a glass of wine.
Strange, to miss something that never was. To miss even the remotest possibility that I was pregnant with my dead husband’s baby.
“So how you doing?” Daniel asked.
“Okay,” I said, snapping out of my fog. “I mean... I don’t really know. Today was a good day. Other days are...not good. How’s that for eloquent?”
He nodded, looking right at me. That was something that was uncommon lately; people couldn’t bear to look me in the eye.
Over the years when I’d run into Daniel, he’d be flirting, smiling, flexing and generally looking hot in a way that I appreciated but didn’t really feel. His green eyes slanted down a little, and he had a killer smile (and knew it). His hair was cut very short, almost a crew cut, possibly because of work. Like all the other man-children in Brooklyn, he didn’t shave daily. He was tall and had those ridiculously beautiful, strong arms; I’d once seen him flex his biceps for a False Alarm and actually tear his T-shirt. So yeah. I knew all that.
But today, he’d acted like any good big brother would, and now...well, he looked very... He looked kind.
“It’s nice to be back here,” I said, my voice a little husky.
“Good. How much do I owe you, by the way?”
“A hundred bucks.”
“I’m guessing you charge more than that.”
“Not today.”
“How about three hundred? Would that cover it?”
“Daniel, you did me a favor. Plus, I plan to eat a lot tonight. A hundred is all I’ll take.”
He smiled. “Then make sure you order a bottle of expensive wine.”
We ordered, and I picked out a not-too-expensive bottle of wine. “How are things at the Re-Enter Center?” I asked.
“Not bad. I got a good group this year.”
“Carpentry, right?”
“That’s right.”
I had a sudden idea. “Hey, do you ever make furniture?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you could make a porch swing?” It would be the perfect present for my in-laws on their fiftieth. A beautiful, one-of-a-kind swing where they could sit and remember their dead son.
I swallowed. The spike was back.
“Sure, I could,” Daniel said. “I made one for my sister a couple years ago. Is it for you?”
“My in-laws.”
“Got it. Sure, I’ll send you some pictures and you can see what you like.” His phone chimed, and he glanced at it. “It’s my lieutenant. I have to call in, but I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Is it really work? Or is it a False Alarm?”
He looked confused. Right. He didn’t know our name for his bimbos. “I’ll just be a second.”
“Yes. Go protect and serve.”
“God, Kate,” he said, tousling my hair. “Get it right. The cops protect and serve. We’re New York’s Bravest.”
“Go. Be brave. Make that call.” I smiled at him.
Al brought over a bottle of fumé blanc and poured me a glass. I took a sip. Hello, wine, my old friend.
The last time I drank wine was the night my husband died.
The wine soured in my mouth, and I had to force myself to swallow. If wine was ruined, Nathan’s death would really be a tragedy. Right? Get that? Gallows humor. Ha. I forced myself to take another sip to ease the spike in my throat.
I’d brought Nathan to this restaurant a couple times. We’d sat in that booth over by the window. Once, we’d come with Paige, before we were engaged, before Paige had such a bug up her ass. Something got us women so silly we couldn’t talk, and Nathan just sat there, smiling, and I remember just loving him so much, feeling my whole insides warm and—
Porto’s door opened, and there was Paige as if I’d conjured her. She did a double take when she saw me, then came over.
As ever, she wore an awesome suit; she was the real deal of a corporate attorney. Heels, too. She looked fantastic.
“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat, “why don’t you change, Lizzie? The bathroom’s down the hall.”
* * *
An hour later, we had some great photos of the chameleonlike Lizzie, who’d opted for some very well-done Kabuki-style makeup; white skin, white lashes, black eye shadow and red, red lips. Daniel sighed wearily, muttered something about how she was playing with dolls not that long ago and stared out the window.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said when she was back in her street clothes. “Here’s your check. Totally worth it.”
Daniel reached over, ripped up the check and said, “I got this.”
“Really? Daniel! Just when I thought I hated you, I totally love you.” She punched him in the stomach. Fondly.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m putting you in a cab.”
“Mom thinks you’re coming for dinner.”
“I’m not. I’m taking her out.” He jerked his head at me.
“You are?” I asked.
“Yeah. You free?”
“That was beautiful, Daniel,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got game, big bro.”
“Shut up. Her husband just died.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” Lizzie said, covering her mouth with her hand.
I shrugged, a little sad that the specter of my widowhood had been brought in. “Thanks.”
Daniel looked at me. “Can I buy you dinner? Since you put up with me and my sister all day long? If you don’t have plans, that is.”
I hesitated. It sounded a little...date-ish. Then again, it was just Daniel the Hot Firefighter, and I’d aged out of False Alarm status fifteen years ago. “That would be nice,” I said.
He smiled, and a lovely warmth filled my chest.
I wasn’t sure that was allowed for a grieving widow, but it sure felt good.
We put Lizzie and her suitcase in a cab, and I assured her I’d get her the photos as soon as possible. I waved as she drove off. “Great girl,” I said.
“Ah, she’s not horrible, anyway.”
“Didn’t you use the words perfect and angelic?”
He laughed. “Maybe. You think she can be a model?”
“I don’t know. I mean, in my opinion, sure. She has a lot of looks, understands angles, and she’s definitely beautiful.”
“She’s watched that dumb modeling show since the beginning of time.”
“I also watch that show. That’s quality television.”
He looked down at me and grinned. “Wanna go to Porto’s? I’m starving.”
The old hangout where Paige and I had spent so many evenings. “Sure.”
A soft spring night, walking through my old neighborhood with Daniel the Hot Firefighter, who was not just hot but insisted on carrying my stuff, really good Italian food ahead...it was a field trip from my life. I could feel the sadness waiting for me once I crossed the Harlem River and headed back to Cambry-on-Hudson, but for now...for now, I was okay.
Porto’s was exactly the same, thank God. It was still pretty early, before six, so we got a table. “Good to see you,” Al said, the eponymous owner. “You want wine?”
“Um...sure.”
“I’ll get the wine list.” He squeezed my shoulder—maybe someone had told him about Nathan—and walked away.
This would be my first alcohol since Nathan had died. Four weeks. Now that it was really, really proven that I wasn’t pregnant, I could have a glass of wine.
Strange, to miss something that never was. To miss even the remotest possibility that I was pregnant with my dead husband’s baby.
“So how you doing?” Daniel asked.
“Okay,” I said, snapping out of my fog. “I mean... I don’t really know. Today was a good day. Other days are...not good. How’s that for eloquent?”
He nodded, looking right at me. That was something that was uncommon lately; people couldn’t bear to look me in the eye.
Over the years when I’d run into Daniel, he’d be flirting, smiling, flexing and generally looking hot in a way that I appreciated but didn’t really feel. His green eyes slanted down a little, and he had a killer smile (and knew it). His hair was cut very short, almost a crew cut, possibly because of work. Like all the other man-children in Brooklyn, he didn’t shave daily. He was tall and had those ridiculously beautiful, strong arms; I’d once seen him flex his biceps for a False Alarm and actually tear his T-shirt. So yeah. I knew all that.
But today, he’d acted like any good big brother would, and now...well, he looked very... He looked kind.
“It’s nice to be back here,” I said, my voice a little husky.
“Good. How much do I owe you, by the way?”
“A hundred bucks.”
“I’m guessing you charge more than that.”
“Not today.”
“How about three hundred? Would that cover it?”
“Daniel, you did me a favor. Plus, I plan to eat a lot tonight. A hundred is all I’ll take.”
He smiled. “Then make sure you order a bottle of expensive wine.”
We ordered, and I picked out a not-too-expensive bottle of wine. “How are things at the Re-Enter Center?” I asked.
“Not bad. I got a good group this year.”
“Carpentry, right?”
“That’s right.”
I had a sudden idea. “Hey, do you ever make furniture?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you could make a porch swing?” It would be the perfect present for my in-laws on their fiftieth. A beautiful, one-of-a-kind swing where they could sit and remember their dead son.
I swallowed. The spike was back.
“Sure, I could,” Daniel said. “I made one for my sister a couple years ago. Is it for you?”
“My in-laws.”
“Got it. Sure, I’ll send you some pictures and you can see what you like.” His phone chimed, and he glanced at it. “It’s my lieutenant. I have to call in, but I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Is it really work? Or is it a False Alarm?”
He looked confused. Right. He didn’t know our name for his bimbos. “I’ll just be a second.”
“Yes. Go protect and serve.”
“God, Kate,” he said, tousling my hair. “Get it right. The cops protect and serve. We’re New York’s Bravest.”
“Go. Be brave. Make that call.” I smiled at him.
Al brought over a bottle of fumé blanc and poured me a glass. I took a sip. Hello, wine, my old friend.
The last time I drank wine was the night my husband died.
The wine soured in my mouth, and I had to force myself to swallow. If wine was ruined, Nathan’s death would really be a tragedy. Right? Get that? Gallows humor. Ha. I forced myself to take another sip to ease the spike in my throat.
I’d brought Nathan to this restaurant a couple times. We’d sat in that booth over by the window. Once, we’d come with Paige, before we were engaged, before Paige had such a bug up her ass. Something got us women so silly we couldn’t talk, and Nathan just sat there, smiling, and I remember just loving him so much, feeling my whole insides warm and—
Porto’s door opened, and there was Paige as if I’d conjured her. She did a double take when she saw me, then came over.
As ever, she wore an awesome suit; she was the real deal of a corporate attorney. Heels, too. She looked fantastic.
