Not even dinner?
I don’t respond.
Reed: Lunch? Even business associates have lunch together.
I shake my head and try to tamp down my temper.
Reed: Fine. But mornings are hard for me.
I’m being difficult for the sake of being difficult now. I can’t very well ask Hannah to come in late to plan some stupid carnival booth anyway.
Me: Saturday?
Reed: My place.
The three dots appear but I respond before he can.
Me: McDonald’s on Peterson. The kids can play, and we’ll talk. Noon.
Reed: You run a hard bargain and I make a lot of deals.
What the hell does that mean?
Reed: I take it that’s the end of our conversation?
I don’t reply because there’s nothing else to say.
Reed: Message received. Have a great day, Victoria.
I tuck my phone back into my purse with a giddy feeling inside. Damn it. I wish my stomach would get the message my brain is trying to send it.
Chapter Five
“So, you and the steak are meeting at Micky D’s?” Chelsea asks. “Kinky. You going to make out in the tunnel slide?” Chelsea takes a bite of her turkey sandwich.
We’re at a deli on the main floor of the building we work in. The Sandwich Place is our go-to for lunch if we’re all in the office. It’s owned by an Italian family who, get this, have one son who’s a police officer, one who’s a paramedic and one who’s a firefighter. I haven’t met them, but Chelsea knows them—the girl knows everyone, I swear—and if the rumors are true, I may have to fake faint in front of them for some mouth to mouth action.
“Steak?” Hannah asks, the spoon from her soup hovering right in front of her matte red lipsticked lips.
“Yeah. Vic is the Doberman drooling over the steak,” Chelsea says as if that explains things.
“I’m missing something.” Hannah takes a graceful sip of her soup.
I’d love to set a meatball grinder with extra sauce and provolone in front of Hannah and see how delicately she can eat it.
“Let’s take a poll,” Chelsea says, setting her sandwich down. “Hannah, would you date the best man from your wedding?”
Hannah chokes, soup dribbling down her chin. I guess I don’t need to do the meatball grinder experiment. I grab a napkin from the black holder in the middle of the table and pass it to her. She dabs at her chin, leaning over the table so she doesn’t stain her dress. I’d be worried too. It probably costs more than Jade’s tuition for the year at St. Pats.
“No.”
“See.” I shoot Chelsea an I-told-you-so look.
“Why not?” she asks.
“For one, the best man at my wedding was my brother.”
“That’s completely different. The steak isn’t related to her or her ex.” Chelsea leans back like she just gave the best closing argument, and everyone is having an ah-ha moment.
“Okay, who is the steak? Is this some riddle?” Hannah’s confused, and she looks at me to clear things up.
“The steak is my ex’s friend who stood up as his best man at our wedding. The steak is the guy who I ran into at Jade’s school last week. The steak manipulated the system, so we’d have to work on a carnival booth together at the school fundraiser.” I sip my soda once I’m done.
“The steak wants you to eat him.” Hannah grins.
“Exactly,” Chelsea says.
“No. The steak probably heard some bullshit from Pete about me in bed.”
“So, I’m right. I totally pegged you for the kinky kind.” Both Hannah and my heads whip in Chelsea’s direction. She holds up her hands, laughing. “Well?”
“No. I mean...just no,” I sputter.
“We’ll let you plead the fifth on that one.” Hannah’s perfectly manicured hand graces my leg with a pat. “But don’t be ashamed. It’s bullshit how men can brag or downright lie about their performance, but we’re supposed to act like we’re laying there with our legs open and have the ability to come with a soft whisper. I’m a screamer and I’m not ashamed.” She smiles, and I can’t tell if she’s entirely serious or not.
“I’m a cowgirl. I ride,” Chelsea adds.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
God, this is good.
“Come on Vic, we all shared. Tell us something.” Chelsea leans forward on the table and even Hannah’s eyes are set on me.
I feel the flush heat my cheeks. Having Jade so young I forget it wasn’t just my education I left behind when I married Pete. I left friends who cared more about going out Thursday through Saturday than waking a sleeping baby for