Page 63 of This Could Be Us
“Good, because I’m starving.”
We share a grin, and I set my nerves aside long enough to enjoy that he’shere. That he came knowing I would be here too. That I get to see him again, even if it’s surrounded by lots of people, with no privacy. That’s probably the only way Ishouldsee this man.
I point him toward one of the few tables with a vacancy. “Let’s get you fed.”
For the next two hours, I do what I’ve done all day. Flit from table to table making sure everyone is enjoying the food, the wine, the company. I never linger too long with any particular group, but my attention is continually drawn to the quiet man eating his food, only occasionally acknowledging the diners around him. He’s probably clueless that the brunette across the table has been making a play for him all night. The thirst on that lady is so real. I wonder if he’ll take her up on what she’s offering. My gut twists at the thought of those dark, steady eyes trained on another woman with that unwavering focus. I’m sure he dates. A man like him? Handsome, fit, successful, single. Kind and brilliant.
He dates, Sol. Of course he does.
Should he decide to date his eager dinner companion, that’s none of my business.
My feet are killing me by the time dessert is done and guests startdeparting. I take up my spot by the door, thanking them for coming and giving everyone a sachet of potpourri I made as a parting gift.
“Wow. You make potpourri?” one diner asks.
“You can make it at home easy. Just slice up some apple, orange, add cloves, cinnamon, and vanilla. Bring it to a boil and let it simmer. Your house will smell divine.”
“You really are the house lady,” she laughs.
The moniker has started to stick, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“Have a good evening,” I say, pressing the bag into her hands.
I try not to search for Judah in the thinning crowd. I’ve had sonar for that man all night, constantly aware of what he was doing, what he was eating, and how he seemed to be enjoying it. Did he realize the woman at his table wanted to boxhimup with her leftovers and take him home? My attention has been split between him and everyone else since he entered the pavilion, and now I can’t find him.
The last of the guests leave, and I push down the rising disappointment that Judah left without saying goodbye.
“I’m gonna grab some photos of the empty pavilion still lit from outside,” Inez tells me, her expression bright with exertion and excitement. She’s been all over today, capturing shots and helping out.
“You’ve been amazing, Nez.” I tug one of the long braids hanging over her shoulder. “Yasmen had to go pick up Lupe and Deja from their field trip. The bus just got there, but she left a crew to clean up, so we get to leave soon. How ’bout that?”
“Cool!” She takes off, phone and light in hand.
“Okay, that’s it.” I kick my foot behind me and grab the strap of my slingback, tugging it off and repeating with the other foot. I pad over to the wine station, grabbing an unopened bottle.
“You’re coming home with me,” I tell the merlot.
“Lucky bottle.”
I swing around, and at the sight of Judah, my synapses start frying and my heartbeat starts tripping and something flutters in the belly region. I’m having an all-over startled reaction to this man.
“Oh!” I press the wine to my chest. “I thought you were gone.”
“No, I just went to the car to get something.”
“I thought maybe… well, that lady at your table seemed kind of… friendly. I thought you…” I stop, mortified that I let this private thought out and that he knows I was so aware of him all night. I can’t lift my eyes from my bare toes against the dark parquet flooring we laid in the pavilion.
“I don’t know her. I didn’t come for her.” One long finger lifts my chin, and the sincerity in his eyes reaches through my chest and squeezes my heart. “I came for you, Sol.”
“Oh. Okay.” It’s all I can manage.
He pulls something from the pocket of his slacks and holds it out to me. It’s an acrylic bookmark, clear with purple and white pressed flowers inside. “This is for you.”
“Judah.” I look up from the bookmark, so small and fragile in his wide palm, to his face. “It’s beautiful.”
“I saw you talking about starting a book club and thought…” A smile that mocks himself comes and goes, briefly softening the stern lines of his face. “It’s kind of silly now that—”
“It’s not. It’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me in a long time.”