Marc turns, and I take a deep breath and follow. Mason’s hot on my tail, not realizing the emotions brewing inside me.
I turn to speak to Mason. “I’m going to use the bathroom quickly.”
“Do you want me to order you something?” he asks.
Marc is a few steps ahead, moving toward one of the empty tables.
“No, I’ll order after I have a look at the menu. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” I say.
“All right.” He walks off to join Marc.
I turn to where the signs for the bathroom are and walk slowly, needing the time to recover from the sensations hitting me.
After using the bathroom, I stare at my appearance in the mirror above the sink. I try to fix my wavy brown hair, using my fingers to comb the knots out. Then I check my makeup, adding ChapStick to my lips, instead of lipstick, because it might be too obvious I’m trying to impress Marc.
I straighten my blue top and black pencil skirt, and then stand back.
You can do this.
As I turn and walk out, I head straight to the boy’s table. Marc’s facing me, so he notices me first. A small lift of the corner of his mouth makes my stomach flutter once again, and I take the empty chair that’s between them. Sitting, I notice the table is small, giving minimal room between us.
I pick up the menu and read it over, giving me time to avoid his gaze.
“Have you decided on what you’d like to order?” a waitress asks.
I lift my head, and we all say “Yes” in unison.
“Okay, what can I get for you?” She doesn’t ask me, but Marc is quick to say.
“Gracie, ladies first.”
I turn to her with a smile. “I’ll take a latte with regular cream, no sugar. Thanks.”
“And to eat?” the waitress asks.
“Can I get the turkey sandwich?”
“Of course.” She nods, writing it down, and then I hand her the menu.
“I’ll get the turkey sandwich and a long black,” Marc says, but I don’t move my gaze to him.
“Sounds good. I’ll have the turkey too and a latte with one sugar,” Mason says.
The waitress collects their menus and rattles off our order to check she got everything before walking away.
“So, as I was saying,” Mason says. “My parents need Mat’s help. The neighbor dispute was turned up when the guy patted his gun, that was nestled in his waistband, toward my dad. Mom’s beside herself and wants to move.”
“Yeah, so would my mom. I don’t know how busy Mat is. We only spoke about the twins’ antics. But just give him a call. I have his card here.”
A card slides in front of my vision, and Marc’s large, tanned hands reach out. I see his nice watch, but again, no ring.
I’m so confused.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. How are the boys?” Mason asks.
Marc chuckles, and I haven’t heard it in a while, but I miss it. It’s a deep, raspy sound. “Same old. You’d think the older they get, the calmer they would be, but I think it’s the opposite for them.”
I have no idea who these people are, but I stay silent until the waitress interrupts with the coffee.