her the best item for a job. She mentioned several entrees that had caught her attention the last time she’d been here, including the things Les and Elaine had ordered and discussed. She’d ordered what Les had, so if she had leftovers, Les could have them.
She reached out impulsively, traced a healing scratch on the back of his hand, resting on the tablecloth. “How did you do that?”
“Hell if I know. Probably digging in the nail bin. Oh, wait. Mrs. Schwartz,” he remembered. “She has that fancy manicure where she can’t touch anything.”
“And Mr. Schwartz is always sending her out when he’s in the middle of a project, to pick up something for him,” she finished.
“Or to get her out of his hair. She does like to backseat drive on the home improvement projects.”
They were smiling at each other when the waitress returned. Lobelia looked at her expectantly, but Rory spoke.
“She’ll have the fried chicken marsala,” he said. “Ask the chef to half the portion size and box it up, hold it in the kitchen until we get ready to leave. That okay?”
Lobelia glanced between them and nodded. “You got it. And you, sir?”
“Lean sirloin with the vegetable soup. What’s good on the dessert menu?”
“Apple tart with a butter cake base. You could die happy eating it. Comes with hand churned vanilla ice cream.”
“We’ll try to leave room for that,” Rory said.
He’d chosen the thing on the menu for her that she would have ordered for herself, if she was capable of doing that. Suddenly, she was choked up, the tears stinging her gaze bringing a wave of terror. Her hands fell to her lap, clutching one another, and a shudder ran through her shoulders as she ducked her head. No. Not here. Not here.
“We’re good,” Rory said quietly to Lobelia. “Thanks.”
The waitress withdrew with a curious look. Darn it. Every time she thought she could handle something new, these totally random emotions hit her like a two-by-four. Like how her first day at school had gone. But Rory had helped her rally, go at it again. And he did it now, too.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “Just breathe. No matter what happens, you’re fine. We’re all good.”
She sent him a desperate look, then directed it elsewhere, like a bird landing only briefly on a bush, but he was having none of that. Once more, as persistent as breathing itself, he brought her attention back to his face by cupping her cheek, making her look at him. Which meant she saw his expression was relaxed. He wasn’t concerned in that way that made her feel so self-conscious, like she needed to pull herself together to make everyone stop worrying.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “In the beginning, I didn’t want to go out in the chair. I thought about people staring. Having to deal with obstacles. Or something embarrassing happening. Mom and Thomas made me do it. Very first place they ever took me was McDonald’s, just like when Les and me were little and Mom and Dad were teaching us how to behave at a public restaurant.” His lips twisted. “It was freaking terrifying.”
He ran a thumb over her palm, even as he adjusted into a more relaxed position in his chair. “Then these kids headed for the play area outside. They squeezed past me, in that impatient way kids can do. One of them put his hand on my arm, on my push rim, as he wiggled past. Didn’t think a damn thing about it. I was just another adult to get past so he could go play.”
Humor crossed his expression. “His mom made this horrified gasp, had him come back and apologize, which kind of ruined it, but I held onto that really important revelation. I wasn’t the center of the universe. Just another person doing their thing.”
She was holding onto the look in his eyes, the touch on her face. She pressed her cheek into it, closed her eyes, trying to absorb his heat, wanting to sink into it.
When she opened them, he was still watching her. “I shared something kind of personal,” he said casually, “so maybe you can do the same. Why do you have difficulty eating?”
Her gut tightened up. “You’ll get angry.”
“I’m not going to be angry at you.”
“I know. But I…I don’t want to make you angry or sad about my family.”
His gaze flickered, as if the comment had particular meaning for him. He lifted a shoulder. “I appreciate you caring for me like that.