Page 2 of The Way We Touch
I’m not complaining. Much. We signed up for this life. It is what it is.
Natalia only glared at me, called me an un-evolved caveman, and we’ve been on the slow train to done ever since.
Not that I have time for a private life during the regular season anyway.
Studying the menu, I’m even less enthused about being here. Tang? Freeze-dried beef au jus… “It’s a quirky concept, but space food?”
“My hook will be, ‘It’s out of this world.’” Natasha waves down our designated waiter. He’s dressed in a white uniform like he’s part of NASA, and he hurries over as if his life depends on keeping us happy. “I’ll have another stardust martini, and may I see the kids’ menu?”
“Of course.” He nods, hastening away, and our eyes meet.
“I thought you promised to eat more.”
“I’m not eating this.” She flicks the menu with her fingernail. “I hope the children’s menu will have a cheesy pasta or some version of pizza.”
I hold up my hands. “It’s a smart idea.”
Natasha isn’t dumb. She only acts that way on social media.
The man returns with a small card, placing it on the bone china plate in front of her, and she lifts it, curling her nose as she reads. “Freeze-dried carrots, potatoes, and beef cubes—just add broth. Is it supposed to be a game?”
“That does it.” I take the napkin out of my lap and put it on my plate. “I’m out of here.”
“Logan! We can’t leave. I promised to take pictures of all the dishes and post them on my accounts.”
I hesitate in my chair, irritated by this entire night—by my entire state of affairs. Maybe I’m having a quarter-life crisis, but I keep asking myself why am I still with this woman? What am I thinking I’ll get? A do-over?
Reaching across the table, I place my hand on hers. Her brow furrows, and she seems confused by my sudden display of tenderness.
I’m not confused. I feel nothing, and it’s the moment of clarity I needed.
I make a decision. “What do you want, Natalia?”
“Sorry?” She shakes her head, and I return to her earlier question.
“Tell me about the new dick you want to bring into our bedroom.”
“Oh,” Her blue eyes light, and she wiggles in her chair as if she’s been planning this for a while. “Aristotle Drakos.”
“Wait…” I glance to the side. “I know that name.”
“You met him with Brittany on his super yacht in March, remember?”
Perhaps I am provincial, because I need to clarify. “Brittany, as in your best friend?”
“Of course! I mean, if I were to have a best friend.”
“I thought she was dating that guy.”
Air puffs through her lips, and she takes a long sip of her martini. “They have an open relationship. Everyone’s doing it now, very en vogue.”
I trace my finger along the base of my tumbler and consider Galileo. “Call him.”
“What?”
“Give him a call. Tell him to join us.”
“Okay…” The side of her lips curl into a smile, and her thumbs fly across her phone screen.