And he didn’t want to, either. Wouldn’t take back a second he’d spent with Hallie. Unfortunately, starting now, he wasn’t sure it would be wise to spend any more.
But maybe, in the name of closure, he’d take one more look at the Becca’s Blooms website before bed . . .
Chapter Five
Hallie stared across the table at Lavinia without really seeing her.
Around them, conversations swelled in the dining room of Othello, her favorite St. Helena bistro. They’d already done serious damage to the breadbasket and were awaiting a family-style plate of spicy butter garlic shrimp with linguine. Naturally, they’d gone with a white wine pairing, and, Lord, it was never a good sign when they ordered a second bottle before the main course made an appearance. They may have cut back on day drinking, but they obviously had no qualms with doing so at night.
For the life of Hallie, however, she couldn’t stop lifting the glass to her mouth. She’d crafted a new state of being. Bewildered drunkenness. In turn, Lavinia’s current state of being was more like irritated anticipation with a side of sloshiness, but she’d imbibed far less than Hallie. So, clearly, there was a first time for everything. Such as drinking a Brit (who’d once been a Gorillaz roadie) under the table.
Or getting a glimpse at the real, adult version of her teenage crush . . . and liking that peek way too much.
Hallie forced herself out of a trance and looked around. Once upon a time, being a regular at a restaurant had been a new experience. She’d enjoyed the process of becoming one. Loved walking into the candlelit Italian bistro and having everyone know her name. Lavinia always sat with her back facing the kitchen; Hallie took the wall. But her grandmother had been around to make normalcy seem . . . well, normal. Now the repetition of coming here made Hallie feel jumpy in the absence of her grandmother’s anchoring presence.
With a long, steadying breath, Hallie fell back in her chair, taking the glass of wine with her. She downed half and pushed aside her one-third life crisis for now. It had been twenty-four hours since she last saw Julian, and she still hadn’t recounted the impromptu hang to her best friend, despite a serious amount of pestering and prodding.
“Come clean, Hallie Welch, goddamn you.” Lavinia leaned in over the candlelight. Close enough to feel the heat on her chin, yip, and flinch away. Maybe they’d both had too much wine. Was this their second bottle or third? “I’ll start smashing dishes. Don’t think I won’t.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Hallie set the glass down on the table, holding up a finger when the waiter set the massive steaming bowl of pasta between them. Both women sighed as the savory aroma hit them like culinary crack. “Pasta presentation never gets old.”
Lavinia threw an exaggerated chef’s kiss at the swinging kitchen door. “Our deep and undying admiration to the chef.”
“I’ll let him know,” the amused waiter said, skating away.
“Oy, don’t forget that second bottle. Or third?” Lavinia called after him. Loudly.
“They love us here.”
Hallie used the provided silver tongs to settle a heaping portion of pasta onto Lavinia’s plate, laughing when she rolled her finger for more.
“Go on, then. Didn’t have a single donut all day so I’d have extra room for this.”
“You got it.” Hallie forked up some more, sighing as a waft of fragrant steam hit her in the face. “Okay, before this pasta coma collides with my wine coma, I’ll spill.” She took a centering breath, as if preparing to impart very sensitive information. It was obvious Lavinia was expecting juicy news. And that left her wide open to be messed with. “Me and Julian did something pretty . . . intimate.”
“You shagged him.” She put her arms up in the shape of a V, whooping at the ceiling mid-chew. “Jerome owes me twenty bucks. I knew you had it in you, Hallie.”
Hallie’s mouth opened and closed on a sputter. Was she the one being messed with now? “You placed bets with your husband? On whether or not I would . . . would . . .”
“And I won.” An eyebrow waggle from Lavinia. “You and I both did, from the sounds of it.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Indignation warred with amusement, leading to Hallie giving Lavinia a very pointed look that didn’t quite stick. “We engaged in the intimate act of prank calling.”
Lavinia’s face lost any trace of mirth. She pretended to signal the waiter. “Excuse me. Garçon? I’d like to order a new best friend.” Her eyelids punched shut. “Prank calling? Really?”
“Yes.” Hallie fanned herself. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“There wasn’t even a grazed tit? Or an itty-bitty peck?”
Hallie dug into her pasta with more gusto than necessary, thanks to her overwrought and underserviced hormones. “Nope.”