Thank You for Listening(15)

“It hasn’t been great to me, either.”

Vindicated, he slapped his knee. “It’s false advertising is what it is!”

“You want to speak to Vegas’s manager?”

“Nah. This is the chat I’m wanting to have.” There was a brief someone-say-something moment and a narrow-shouldered, elvish-looking server appeared and set their drinks down. “Impeccable timing, mate.” The server blushed slightly. This man’s effect was universal. He turned to Sewanee, lifted his glass. “To . . .” His face went blank. “Vegas? No, that’s idiotic. To life? No, that’s horrid. To . . .”

Sewanee leaned forward, caught his eye. “To,” she said.

He smiled again. “We’ll leave it at that, then. To.”

They clinked glasses and took a thoughtful sip. When they were done, she set down her glass, looked at him. Raised her eyebrow. Well? He gazed steadily back at her. A verdict had been reached. “Perfect. I believe I’m in love,” he said, right at her.

Something deep inside of Sewanee twitched, once, like the flank of a hibernating bear. She looked away. The Irishman brought her back to him, setting down his drink and reaching out his hand. “Nick.”

She took his hand, debated for about half a second. “Alice.”

This wasn’t real. None of this was real. She didn’t feel like herself tonight so why should she be herself tonight? He had a good handshake. He had good fingers. She checked them for a ring. Only one, on the middle finger of his right hand. Odd placement, but safe.

She pulled back and reached immediately for her drink again. “Where are you from?” she asked. Although she had adopted the accent of that girl from the panel, she was careful to leave out the nasality and grating uptalk because . . . just no.

“Ireland.” At her eye roll, he chuckled. “That obvious? Dublin.”

Sewanee cocked her head at him. “North or South?” He cocked his head at her. “Your accent.”

He smiled wider. “What about it?”

“It’s muddled.” Honestly, Ron’s vampire Seamus sounded more authentic.

“Well, if you must know, Henry Higgins, I grew up all over the place. Divorced parents.” He plucked up his drink, took another sip. “You?”

“Texas.”

He made a doubting face. “Sounds more like East Virginia to me.”

“Do you think there’s a state called East Virginia?”

“Well,” he said, taking another sip. “There’s a West Virginia.”

This shouldn’t have been as charming as it was. But a few Last Words in . . .

BlahBlah was right. Swan should make the most of it. She was in a designer dress, perfectly coiffed, Adaku would be back in four hours, and he was leaving in three. It was a Cinderella-at-the-ball situation. Everything would be over by midnight, but in the meantime . . . do it, Swan.

“I know I said one drink, but I’m thinking we’ve got more to say. Shall we get another round started?” Nick asked her.

If Adaku were perched on her shoulder, Sewanee knew exactly what she’d say right now: Him!

“Hold that thought.” She picked up her phone. “I just got a text.” She hadn’t. She pretended to read it. She didn’t. “Ah. My friend. She can’t make it to dinner. Bummer.” She looked back at Nick and something passed briefly across his eyes. Nothing meaningful, but something all the same. He looked away, held the coupe glass up to the light emanating from the crystal chandelier above them, and rolled the stem between two of those fingers. Then he plucked up the toothpick sitting in the drink, put it to his mouth. He slowly slid the black cherry off with his lips.

“So,” she heard herself say, “I have a reservation at a place with tremendously thick steaks and bottles of wine that cost more than my monthly car payment and I’m going to charge everything to my friend’s expense account.” She quickly added, “She told me to. In the text. I would never just do something like–” stop talking “–do you have the time to join me?”

Nick smoothly turned, caught the server’s eye. “Check, please, thank you so much.” He looked back at Sewanee, toothpick rolling to a languid stop in the right corner of his mouth. “I’m starving.”

She picked up her own toothpick, considered the cherry. “Me too,” she said, and slid it into her mouth with her teeth.





Chapter Six


“What Happens in Vegas”

“SO, NICK. WHAT DO YOU DO?”

He had just put the last shrimp into his mouth. “Best shrimp cocktail I’ve ever had.” He apparently had no problem speaking with his mouth full, another thing Sewanee found inexplicably charming.

She chuckled and leaned back. “So good.”

Nick swallowed and leaned forward earnestly. “So good. And as large as baby lobsters. Big shrimp! The most delicious oxymoron.”

Yes, inexplicably charming.

A busboy cleared away the destroyed remains of the appetizer and Sewanee appreciated how the candlelight danced on the table’s glass top. She appreciated Nick’s toned forearms resting on it, revealed after he’d pushed his sleeves back when the food arrived. She appreciated the swimmy feeling in her head, the glint in Nick’s hazel eyes, the way her body felt in a dress she’d never buy.