Do I Know You?(44)

“Great. I went to the Jacuzzi,” I say with overeager cheer. Just having something to say is like the relief of sliding into the heated water. “You?”

He smiles. “Oh, you know. Replied to some work emails. I know I shouldn’t while on vacation, but I couldn’t resist.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lindsey’s gaze flit to me. Sparks of concern flicker in the brown eyes I do not doubt David cited on his dating checklist. It’s quietly a little mortifying. Is our conversation so obviously stilted? What’s going on here?

“Napped some, too,” Graham goes on, reminding me I just sat there, not replying.

“Oh, yeah, um,” I flail. “Nice. Love to . . . nap.”

Graham nods, head bobbing like shipwreck driftwood on open ocean. Sweat springs to my hands. I feel like I’ve forgotten my lines on stage—which only ever happened to me once.

Until it hits me suddenly, sunlight streaming from parted clouds. We don’t need to stay. We can escape this stifling double date, do something—anything else. Leave David and Lindsey to enjoy their evening.

Quickly I text Graham under the table.


SOS. Meet me by the bathrooms.



I follow Graham’s eyes, which drift down to his smartwatch. It’s fortunately not on the wrist closest to David. He scans my message, and relief floods his features. When his gaze snaps to mine, it’s the reply I needed.

I stand up. “I’m going to hit the restroom before our food comes,” I say. My mind leaps forward—to strategies, well-worded excuses, clean getaways from this evening. We won’t end tonight like Nikki and the ill-fated Garrett. I refuse.

“Oh, great. I’ll come with,” Lindsey says.

Graham frowns. I only just manage not to do the same. This complicates our strategic moment of privacy.

Lindsey, oblivious, gathers up her phone. This isn’t her fault, I remind myself while Graham purses his lips, looking peeved. She’s just enjoying her date.

I shoot Graham a pained glance over my shoulder while Lindsey and I leave the table. We continue through the restaurant to the dark hallway in the back. I hold the bathroom door for her, and she walks right up to the mirrors, pulling out her lipstick.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she says. She scrutinizes her reflection, then starts touching up her makeup, which doesn’t really need retouching. I head into a stall despite not having to pee. Really, I’m just hoping Lindsey will leave before I’m finished—before Graham comes back here. “David is great,” she goes on. “I mean, I knew he was friendly but, like, wow. I haven’t had this much fun on a first date in years.”

I can’t help smiling. “You have really great chemistry,” I say, meaning it. I flush the toilet, having no good excuse for sitting in here this long. While Lindsey’s fluffing her hair, I go to stand next to her in front of the mirror.

“I’m sorry your date’s a dud, though,” she goes on matter-of-factly. Like she’s offering me traffic tips. “But you could totally just bang him for his body before leaving, despite the lack of long-term potential.”

I freeze, the cold water of the sink rushing over my hands. Not only what she’s said, but the offhand way she said it, clashes with my reality. The idea that Graham doesn’t have long-term potential is impossible to comprehend when I’ve pledged myself to him eternally, while the very notion of a stranger writing him off so quickly feels like the warped manifestation of some parallel universe I’ve stumbled into.

I fight to return to the moment. When I do, I find I’m offended on Graham’s behalf.

“Why doesn’t he have long-term potential?” I keep the question casual, reaching robotically for the hand soap pump. Of course, it doesn’t matter what Lindsey thinks, except that her conclusion is so ridiculous that I can’t let it stand.

Lindsey frowns through her fresh lipstick. “Come on—the only conversation he could muster was about his work emails? You know what I mean. Suits can be fun for a night, and then they’re boring,” she says, like the word tastes salty.

My heart pounds with hidden anger, my breathing thin in my constricted chest. I slam the button for the dryer next to me, and the howl fills the room. Lindsey’s evaluation revolts me. It’s snide, superficial, dismissive, and unfair.

While my hands dry, however, I realize there’s something else beneath my disgust. It’s fear, quiet and insidious. Does Graham think I think that about him? Under the restroom’s low lighting, I face the harsh facts here. I should show more interest in Graham’s career because he is interesting. This trip has more than proven that.

“He doesn’t seem boring to me,” I say softly.

Lindsey shrugs, clearly unaware of this little internal struggle I’ve waged. “Well, he could be fun, I guess.” She straightens her dress and turns to me. “How do I look?”

“Oh,” I muster. “Great.”

Lindsey grins. “See you back out there.” Winking, she walks out the door.

I wait for it to swing shut before I let my face fall. Graham is going to rendezvous with me in a few minutes and—then what? I came in here ready to strategize. To put my theatrical skills to the task of whatever excuse would extricate me and Graham from the worst, weirdest double date imaginable. But . . .