at least an hour. Probably longer.”
“Really?”
Travis shrugs. “He’s been disappearing a lot lately. I think he walks through Presidio park after lunch to clear his head.”
“Oh.” I can’t help but feel completely deflated. I’d so carefully planned what I needed to say. “That’s too bad.”
“Why don’t you text him? Tell him you stopped by and that you’ll be back later, so he won’t disappear again. And in the meantime, we’ll go somewhere nice—my treat—and then you can meet up with him when we’re finished.” He shoots me a friendly smile. “Come on. You’ve got to be hungry.”
“A little,” I admit.
“Then text him while I grab my wallet.” He moves toward the glass-walled offices on the opposite side of the cubicles. “And then we’ll head out.”
I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not a good idea, is it? To be going out with someone who works for Michael. But it’s really just an innocent lunch with one of his colleagues—who is also our neighbor—so why do I feel guilty? I’m warring with myself as I fish my phone out of my bag.
Hey honey. I type fast. Stopped by the office to talk to you about something. Kind of important. Ran into Travis instead. Going to lunch. Will be back to see you within the hr.
I hesitate, taking a deep breath before I hit SEND.
Travis and I walk to a Greek restaurant on Jackson Street, not far from Michael’s building. I always wanted to try the place when I worked in the city. People rave about the octopus salad, but I could never justify spending upward of thirty dollars on a single meal. Not with what I was earning, anyway.
On the way there, I shoot Michael another text letting him know where we’re headed, and steal a glance at Travis out of the corner of my eye. I should’ve declined the lunch invitation; I don’t want to do anything that could anger Michael, especially when I feel like I’m already walking on eggshells. But I can’t help myself. Even though I shouldn’t be, I’m intrigued by Travis. He’s one of the only people I know who knew Michael when he was with Joanna.
After we enter the restaurant, the host escorts us to a table near the windows and reaches for my shoulder. “Can I take your coat, miss?”
“Sure.” I slip out of it, then smooth down my dress. It’s a new one, one I bought hoping to please Michael.
“Your waitress will be with you momentarily.”
The restaurant is super elegant and cozy with white linen-covered tables, chandeliers, and the robust smell of something rich and buttery wafting through the air. It’s lunchtime and it’s busy, with only a few tables open, and the clinking sound of forks on plates mixes with chattering voices. Dean would probably blow a gasket if he knew I was dining somewhere like this, rather than eating his food, and that thought thrills me more than I can express.
“This is Joanna’s favorite restaurant,” Travis says, reaching for the wine list. “Have you ever eaten here?”
Joanna’s favorite restaurant. Did Michael bring her here for special occasions? Did they sit at a candlelit table in the shadows and talk quietly together? Or perhaps share a drink after work at the bar, leaning close and whispering in each other’s ears?
“No, never,” I tell Travis, opening the menu and skimming the prices. There’s nothing under forty dollars unless I want to pick an appetizer for my main meal. “But everything looks delicious.”
After the waitress approaches and introduces herself, Travis orders a wine I couldn’t pronounce if I tried, a baked feta appetizer, and a halibut steak. When she turns to me, I draw a blank, hitting some kind of mental wall. It’s something that’s been happening a lot lately. I’m misplacing things. Forgetting things. I’m fidgety and nervous, and it’s driving me crazy.
“Colleen?” Travis asks, with the waitress looking on. “Did you need more time?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m bouncing between