One More Weekend (Sapphics in the City #5)

24. Jenna

24

JENNA

Our table was like a revolving door of incredible food, all stuffed between perfect conversion and endless laughter – aka, the Sy special.

We cleaned the appetizer plates which were lifted away as soon as we finished, making space for the next round of food.

“I cannot wait for that steak.” Sy licked her lips, somehow just as hungry after the apps as she was when we first sat down.

A part of me still couldn’t believe she had pulled this off. There was no way I wasn’t about to find a way to pay her back, even if it was small. Ever since I’d lost my job, Sy had been working overtime to make these last few months special. And she deserved the same back.

“Me too.” I smiled across the table at her, my eyes moving down her neck to the collar of her shirt. Still shocked by how good she looked, I struggled to keep my eyes to myself throughout the meal.

But before I could get carried away, a waiter appeared with two pristine plates and set them down before us. We’d decided to order a steak and a salmon filet and share both of them, both of us too indecisive to decide on one dish.

My mouth watered as soon as I looked at the steak, a round filet mignon atop a lush pile of mashed potatoes with a thick brown, bourbon peppercorn sauce. On the side, a delicate nest of watercress greens decorated the plate.

“Damn,” was all I could manage as the words left my lips.

Sy nodded as the second plate was set down, a gorgeous crispy salmon on a bed of orzo. “No kidding.”

We thanked our waiters who brought us a plate of oysters, on the house.

Once they left us, we each took a bite of the steak. Sy cut into the perfectly rare meat, a bit of juice flowing down the potatoes. Holding up her fork for me, I leaned forward and took the bite from her.

The meat melted on my tongue like it was made of warm butter.

“Jesus.” I moaned, closer to how I sounded in bed than I meant it to be.

But Sy joined in, harmonizing with her deeper voice as we chewed the steak. Our drinks were empty but we both decided to avoid another round, trying to stop ourselves from having another close call.

Looking over at her as she chewed, her jaw tensing, I knew it wouldn’t take any alcohol to convince me that kissing her was a good idea. Even if I knew how complicated it would make all of this.

The only thing stopping me was her rejection. I’d already almost broken our deal and she had been the one to shut it down.

Can’t pull that again, I have to back off.

We kept eating, taking pieces of the flakey salmon.

The plates were devoured in a matter of minutes, despite our best attempts to eat slowly and with intention. I even found space in my full stomach to eat the complimentary oysters.

“I don’t think I’ll ever eat this well again.” Sy groaned as she leaned back in her white, upholstered chair.

Nodding, I laughed. “Me either.”

Picking up a conversation we’d been having for nearly a decade, Sy lifted a finger. “See, this is why when we’re super rich, I wouldn’t want my kids to grow up knowing how wealthy they were. I don’t think they’d appreciate this as much.”

“No, yeah. I don’t think you’re wrong.” I smiled.

It was one of the things I’d grown to love about Sy, every time she had a point – no matter how much she knew I agreed with her – she brought it up as if I wasn’t on the same page.

So I continued, “But this is why I argue you raise them in the middle of nowhere. Then you can be honest about their privilege but still limit the amount they get used to luxuries like this.”

Snapping into a finger gun, Sy laughed. “Exactly. God, I’d love a little farm outside of the city.” Her eyes turned dreamy, longing for a day when she didn’t have to hustle back-breaking gigs and could instead just stay home, write, tend the garden, and raise a few kids.

“How many kids do you even want?” I asked, realizing I’d never asked just how many rascals Sy was signing up for.

“Four at least. One feels inhumane, two is competitive, three is an odd number, and four is just right.” Sy had the answer locked and loaded. “What about you?”

Frozen, I shrugged. I hadn’t ever quantified it. It had been hard for me to even envision kids with any partners I’d had. I’d always felt like a long way off and I never felt like I had a relationship with someone competent enough to handle more than a dog.

But looking into Sy’s eyes, I nodded. “Four sounds perfect.” And it was true if they were hers, four would be no problem.

Shaking my head, I tried to stop myself from picturing her with a toddler on her shoulders running through our garden. I tried not to imagine the way the dirt would smudge her forearms, the way she would smile at me in the kitchen window.

It made my stomach hurt, a clearer vision of what could be than I’d ever had. Back in college, we used to joke about just having kids together, skip all the drama of a relationship and do it just us.

Now I wasn’t sure how much of a joke it was.