Chapter Two
~Abigail Thomas~
“I’m sorry Ms. Thomas, but Mr. Blanther has cancelled his reservation,” the hostess told me in an apologetic tone.
“Did he say why?” I asked, feeling my brows knit together in confusion.
Mark hadn’t even called to say he needed to cancel. What a jerk. Ugh, I wasn’t even sure why I bothered anymore. I’d been asked out and stood up a dozen times this year already.
What the hell did that say about me? I was almost twenty-five years old, and I couldn’t even get a guy to have dinner with me once. Pathetic.
I was about to leave when I noticed Cyrus sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant. I smiled at the hostess then walked over to my best friend in disbelief.
“Abigail!” he said, his tone full of surprise. He stood up and hugged me. “What are you doing here?”
“I was supposed to have a date,” I reminded him. “I told you that. God, it’s like you don’t even listen.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I tune out the details when you go on and on. But I do listen. You’re meeting…Matt? Right?”
“Mark,” I said. “And I was, but he canceled.”
“Oh, I ‘m so sorry.” He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to sit with me? I just got here, I haven’t even ordered yet.”
“You’re here alone?” I asked as I slipped into the seat across from him. “How did you even get a reservation here?”
“I didn’t.” He lowered his gaze to the menu and shrugged. “The restaurant was interested in our security company and I offered to come down and check it out.”
His body was stiff and he wasn’t meeting my gaze, which made me wonder if he was lying. But why would he? Cyrus was the most honest and sweet man I’d ever met.
“Well,” I said, shrugging as I plucked the menu out of his grip and starting to look over it. “How fortuitous. I’m starving.”
“That’s too bad,” he said with a laugh. “I can’t imagine how many half-ounce goat cheese balls with honey you’d have to eat to actually get full in this place.”
I wrinkled my nose as I read through the options. He was right. I guess small plates really did mean small.
“You want to get out of here?” he offered. “We could run down to the pier and grab some hot dogs.”
“Yes, please,” I said, scooting my chair back and following him to his feet. He took my arm and led me out of the restaurant.
When we reached the parking lot I wondered how I hadn’t noticed his motorcycle sitting there when I’d arrived. It was pretty distinctive. The little black crotch-rocket with lime green trim was practically infamous in this town.
Cyrus raked his gaze over me and smiled.
“What?” I asked defensively, pulling at my dress. “I thought I looked pretty good.”
“You look great,” he said quickly. “But you can’t ride my bike in that. You’ll have to drive.”
I shrugged and led him over to my car, unlocking it with the key fob and smiling when he rushed ahead of me to open my door for me.
Cyrus had always done things like that for me. Carrying my books in school, opening doors, pulling out chairs. He was the consummate gentleman.
I wished I could meet a guy like him.
A laugh almost bubbled out of me at that thought as I slid behind the wheel of the car. I already knew a guy like him. He was my best friend and I already had him.
For a moment I let myself wonder why he couldn’t like me the way I’d liked him back in high school. I’d crushed on him so hard from the moment I saw him, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that we were permanently friend-zoned.
I’d let go of any hope that Cyrus and I would end up together. But part of me was always a little relieved when my dates canceled on me. Because it never felt completely right accepting invitations in the first place.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the pier, forcing myself to let go of those thoughts. It didn’t do any good to dwell on what could have been or what would never be.
He was my best friend, and I loved that I’d always have him in life, regardless of what it looked like.