On Second Thought(60)

But today, he’d acted like any good big brother would, and now...well, he looked very... He looked kind.

“It’s nice to be back here,” I said, my voice a little husky.

“Good. How much do I owe you, by the way?”

“A hundred bucks.”

“I’m guessing you charge more than that.”

“Not today.”

“How about three hundred? Would that cover it?”

“Daniel, you did me a favor. Plus, I plan to eat a lot tonight. A hundred is all I’ll take.”

He smiled. “Then make sure you order a bottle of expensive wine.”

We ordered, and I picked out a not-too-expensive bottle of wine. “How are things at the Re-Enter Center?” I asked.

“Not bad. I got a good group this year.”

“Carpentry, right?”

“That’s right.”

I had a sudden idea. “Hey, do you ever make furniture?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think you could make a porch swing?” It would be the perfect present for my in-laws on their fiftieth. A beautiful, one-of-a-kind swing where they could sit and remember their dead son.

I swallowed. The spike was back.

“Sure, I could,” Daniel said. “I made one for my sister a couple years ago. Is it for you?”

“My in-laws.”

“Got it. Sure, I’ll send you some pictures and you can see what you like.” His phone chimed, and he glanced at it. “It’s my lieutenant. I have to call in, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Is it really work? Or is it a False Alarm?”

He looked confused. Right. He didn’t know our name for his bimbos. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Yes. Go protect and serve.”

“God, Kate,” he said, tousling my hair. “Get it right. The cops protect and serve. We’re New York’s Bravest.”

“Go. Be brave. Make that call.” I smiled at him.

Al brought over a bottle of fumé blanc and poured me a glass. I took a sip. Hello, wine, my old friend.

The last time I drank wine was the night my husband died.

The wine soured in my mouth, and I had to force myself to swallow. If wine was ruined, Nathan’s death would really be a tragedy. Right? Get that? Gallows humor. Ha. I forced myself to take another sip to ease the spike in my throat.

I’d brought Nathan to this restaurant a couple times. We’d sat in that booth over by the window. Once, we’d come with Paige, before we were engaged, before Paige had such a bug up her ass. Something got us women so silly we couldn’t talk, and Nathan just sat there, smiling, and I remember just loving him so much, feeling my whole insides warm and— Porto’s door opened, and there was Paige as if I’d conjured her. She did a double take when she saw me, then came over.

As ever, she wore an awesome suit; she was the real deal of a corporate attorney. Heels, too. She looked fantastic.

I felt a stir of oily black anger.

“Kate?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Work.”

“Oh.” She set down her gorgeous leather bag. “Um, can I sit for a minute?”

I didn’t want her to, but I shrugged. She sat.

“So. How are you?”

Well, my husband died, and I seem to be having heart attacks every other day or so, and thank God my sister got dumped and moved in with me, because I’m so sad my bones hurt, Paige. They actually hurt. “I’m fine.”

What was it about female friendships? Why was it so crushing when they failed?

“Look,” she said, and her tone was a little impatient. “I’ve been wanting to call you, but I really didn’t know what to say. But you’re good?”

“Fine.”

I guess she could read something in my face. “Well, you’re here, having dinner with a friend, I guess. That’s a step in the right direction. It’s good. You should get out, see people.”

“I appreciate your input.”

She took the veiled insult.

I’d talked to Nathan quite a bit about Paige after she dumped me. His take was that I was better off without her. Men never could understand women and their friends.

But I was a little obsessed. Who dumps a friend because that friend is happy? Though I did it on the sly, I checked her Facebook page, her Twitter, looked at her Pinterest board. She had one for wedding dresses, for God’s sake, and it was public and under her real name. If there was a better way to scare off a potential boyfriend, I didn’t know what it was.

She’d been my closest friend, and I didn’t make friends easily. My very best friend, and all she could manage was to write her name at the bottom of a shitty card from Duane Reade.

“So you’re just going to sit there and judge me?” she said.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Hey, Paige.” Daniel returned, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. “Really? Daniel?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Hi. How are you?” He sat down. “You joining us?”

“No,” she said. “Wow, Kate. You’re doing much better. Better than I would’ve thought.”