“Yes,” Lark says. “We’ll have two pancakes, one waffle, an order of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, a bowl of grits, also with cheese, but American on that, a side order of sausage, and two biscuits. All to share, so could you also bring an extra plate, please?”
“Of course.” The waitress tops off our coffees before hustling over to the computer to type in the order.
“That was hot,” I murmur beneath my breath.
“The way I order food?” Lark asks, her smile widening when I nod. “What can I say? I know what I want, Mason, and I’m not afraid to ask for it.”
“And that was even hotter.” I lean forward, elbows propped on the table to add in a whisper, “Am I going to be allowed to kiss you today?”
“Very possibly.” She shoots me a look that makes my pulse pick up all over again. “Now, what were we talking about?” She takes my hand, sending a hum of pleasure shooting up my arm.
“I don’t remember,” I say, grinning. “Probably wasn’t important. Not as important as my plans for us for tomorrow.”
“And what are those?”
“I got tickets for the musical playing at the Lyric in Atlanta. The matinee.”
“You didn’t!” She laughs. “You hate musical theater.”
“But I lo…” I swallow the word, not wanting the first time I say it to her to be so casual. “I really like you, and you really like musical theater. And I like happy hour at Damon’s after the show.”
“Sounds like a heavenly fifth date.” Lark threads her fingers through mine with a sigh. “I’m going to be so spoiled after this week. I won’t ever want to go back to work.”
“Well, maybe you could take a few more days off,” I say, wheels turning. “We could go somewhere. Camping, or to Hilton Head if you don’t mind a long drive.”
Her brow furrows. “Both sound amazing, but I can’t. I have five weddings coming up in June, two corporate parties that want a big spread, and three baby showers. I’m going to be working like a dog until the middle of July, and I just added another wedding in August. Not that I’m complaining,” she hurries to add. “I’d rather have too much work than not enough, but it would be nice to have a few more days with you.”
“We have as many days as you’ll give me,” I say, squeezing her hand. “We’ll find time to be together. I don’t start work until next month and when I do I’m one of five doctors at the practice. We share rounds and take turns being on call, so the hours shouldn’t be nearly as deadly as med school or residency. And Bliss River’s only an hour from the city. I could be at your place by six thirty or so most nights.”
She shakes her head slowly back and forth.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask. “Has traffic gotten worse since I left? I used to be able to make it home from Atlanta in fifty minutes, an hour tops, but—”
“No, it’s not that,” Lark cuts in, shaking her head. “It’s just…this. Us. It’s blowing my mind a little.”
My ribs tighten. “Me too. But in the best way.”
She nods, easing the pressure in my chest. “Definitely. I can’t remember the last time I felt so—”
“Lark? Lark March, is that you?” The voice is so high-pitched it’s nearly a squeal and loud enough that the entire front section of the diner turns to stare as a vaguely familiar brunette wearing a t-shirt that reads “Soccer Mom and Proud of It!” wiggles up to our table and my stomach drops.
This woman is grinning at Lark with one eye, but shooting daggers at me with the other.
Chapter 15
Mason
Lark detangles her hand from mine with a guilty expression. “Vicky! What’s up? How are you?” She stands, moving to embrace the other woman, who shoots me another not-so-nice glance over Lark’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Vicky says as she hugs Lark. “Just meeting some girls from my old Baby and Me class for breakfast while the kids are at school.”
“You’re kidding.” Lark pulls away, but remains standing next to our booth, her back turned just enough to exclude me from the conversation. “Is Braxton already in school?”
“And Braden, too. He started kindergarten last year.”
“That’s so crazy! It seems like your wedding was like, what? Two minutes ago?”
“We’re celebrating our tenth anniversary this year.” Vicky beams the smug beam of the happily married, the beam that used to make me want to vomit when I was in New York and wondering if winning Lark back was nothing but a pipe dream.
“I heard Aria was back in town,” Vicky continues. “You remember she was one of my bridesmaids.”
“I do,” Lark says. “I’ll tell her you said hi.”
“Do that, and tell her to call me! We need to do some catching up. I can’t wait to hear all her news and see that new baby of hers. I’m dying to hold a real baby.” She sighs. “All mine are getting too big to want to snuggle with Mama. I keep telling Brent we should have another—I’m only twenty-nine, for goodness sakes, it’s not like we have to close up shop—but he can’t stand the diaper years. He’s so excited now that the boys are old enough to play soccer and go fishing with him on Sunday afternoons.”