“He probably didn’t. On nights that are going to stretch on, I tell him that he’s free to go get food or run errands, so long as he is back by the time the event is coming to an end. So if we was in a restaurant, he wouldn’t have seen anything.”
“Still, we’ll ask.”
And so he did.
Making Mitchell look almost guilty for not having seen anything.
But we tried not to obsess over that as we walked into the fluorescent-lighted fast food place, standing in line behind a bunch of teens who openly stared at us when we walked in.
“It’s a sad day when a fast food meal that cost a couple bucks tastes better than a meal that was, what, eight hundred a plate?”
“It went up a hundred this year,” I told him, dipping my fry in honey mustard.
“Interesting choice,” he said as he used the barbecue sauce.
“Almost as interesting as your choice to mix orange soda with the lemon-lime,” I sited shaking my head at him.
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” he said, reaching across the table to snag one of my nuggets.
“Hey,” I grumbled.
“You ate half of my onion rings,” he reminded me.
And it was just so… normal.
More normal than most things in my life.
Because, despite the outfit, this moment had nothing at all to do with the life I’d built. There was no image to uphold, no need to try to prove myself worthy of anything.
It was just me. And my preferences. And a man I was a little worried that I was starting to fall for.
Worried because it had an expiration date.
When he figured out who was out to get me.
Then he would be gone.
And I would be acutely aware of the sudden emptiness of my life.
“Uh oh. Where’d you go?” Brock asked, making my gaze shoot up to him.
Caught, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth.
So I came up with a lie.
“Sorry. Just had a little hospital flashback,” I told him. “The light in here…”
“Yeah,” Brock said, nodding. “I remember.”
“You… remember?” I asked, brows furrowing.
Brock put down a fry he’d just picked up.
“You’re not the only one who had to spend some time on a 5150, sweetheart. Though, in my case, it was warranted.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I told him, reaching across the table to put my hand over his.
He ignored the out I offered him, though.