Life and Other Inconveniences(102)

“Right.” He tried to smile, then looked at the grog list.

“Blimey!” barked someone, and we both jumped. “What can I get ye to slake yer thirst?” It was our server, a pretty girl with a fearsome glare. Clearly, no one worked here of their own free will.

“I’ll have a Treasure Chest,” I said, picking the first cocktail that appeared.

“Me too,” Miller said.

“Don’t get yer scurvy selves hornswoggled,” she said loudly, then lowered her voice. “I don’t know what that means. The drinks are strong, that’s all.”

The restaurant was largely empty, aside from a family with about six children seated not far from us. The parents were ignoring them as the children chased each other around the tables. There was also an elderly couple by the window, eating in silence, not looking at each other, just shoveling in their food. The portions looked massive.

“How was your day?” Miller asked, and thank God, because I thought he’d never speak.

“It was pretty good,” I said. “I had a few clients online this morning, and then I went up to Rose Hill and did an intake session with a family.” It had been really emotional. And kind of beautiful. And heartbreaking. But beautiful.

Truth was, my work at Rose Hill was a lot more rewarding than working with clients online. There was really something about being face-to-face, being able to give someone the occasional pat on the shoulder or, in this case, a hug.

“It must help the families, knowing that you’re one of them. That Hope is there.”

“I only tell them if they ask,” I said. “But I think it helps me understand them a little better. I mean, I’m her sister; most people are the parents, so it’s different. But it does help.”

Our drinks arrived, and good God, they were huge.

“Ye ready for yer rations?” our server asked.

“Uh, not really,” Miller said. “Can we have a few minutes?”

“Aye.” She rolled her eyes and went away. I caught a glimpse of the hostess, now wrapped in a blanket. I sipped my Treasure Chest, then winced. It was apparently every alcohol known to pirate-kind thrown in a blender.

“I feel like I should tell you something,” Miller said. “I . . . shit.” He took a few swallows of his drink.

“Easy, big fella,” I said. “Our serving wench didn’t lie. They’re strong.”

“Yeah, I need the liquid courage. So. Here goes. Uh . . . I’ve never been with anyone other than Ashley. Never held hands with, kissed, slept with, loved anyone but her. So I’m not sure how this goes. Also, you’re Jason’s . . . something, and I don’t want that to be a thing. And you know, I’m a widower with a horrible child and I work a lot and have kind of a shitty home life. So I’m not really much of a prize.” He took another pull of his drink. I would be driving home, it appeared.

I looked at him a long minute. “How about if we just kiss now?” I suggested. “Get it over with. If it’s horrible, we can just eat our fried clams and go home and be friends, no hard feelings.”

He pondered this. “Okay,” he said.

I laughed a little. This was so weird. Then I got up, slid to his side of the booth and sat down next to him. “You ready?”

He looked utterly wretched. “Yeah.”

“You’re not really inspiring confidence on my part,” I said. “If this is on par with, say, walking the plank”—I started to laugh—“or being keelhauled, you can pass. Matey.”

He smiled. “Go for it.”

I did.

For a second, he did nothing. But then he caught on.

Oh, kissing. Kissing was so great. Miller’s hand went to the back of my head, and he kissed me back, the pressure of his lips just right, and warm and wonderful. He tilted my head a little, making the kiss last longer, and when it was done, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Better than keelhauling,” he said, and kissed me again, briefly. “Thank you.”

“That’s gross,” said a voice. One of the unsupervised kids, about six, and damn cute, his blond hair sticking up straight, one tooth missing.

“Go back to your parents,” I said.

“Kissing makes babies.”

“No, it doesn’t. Go.”

I looked back at Miller. “Date, or friends?”

He touched my chin with one finger. “Date,” he said.

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Good.” We smiled at each other for a dopey minute. “I’m going back to my side of the table now.”

“Okay. Bye.”

I was guessing that Riley and Rav had more game than Miller and I did, but who cared?

“Okay, so getting back to your list of failings,” I said, “um . . . I’m not really experienced in the dating world, either. And that’s been fine. I mean, Jason and I were together in my head longer than we were in reality. After he got married, I had a couple first dates. And two second dates. And maybe a third, but I stopped trying about five years ago because it just didn’t seem worth the effort.”

“Does it now?”

“It does.”

“Even with a fucked-up widower and his horrible child?”

“You sell yourself so well. But yes. I like your horrible child.”