Chapter Twenty-One #2
He leads me to a building covered in bright red paint.
A sign outside announces that the pub was one of a handful of buildings that didn’t fall during the Quake and has been preserved in its original form due to its historical significance.
Even though it’s midday, it’s dark inside, thanks to the gloomy weather.
Candles flicker on each table like we’ve stepped into a photograph from a pre-Quake lifestyle magazine.
“Oh!”
“Do you like it?”
“Absolutely.” April and I used to scavenge restaurants for their knives and tools. But I’ve never seen one decked out for dining.
Sid leads me to a table by one of the windows.
A view of the harbour stretches out next to us, broken up by tracks of rain streaming down the glass.
I can’t resist pressing a hand to the cold, clear surface, leaving a filmy handprint behind.
I’ve never seen a sheet of glass this large and intact before.
A waiter comes to drop off menus, and it feels even more like a storybook. Everything is magical and perfect right up until I open the menu.
“Holy shit! They’re charging what for a salad?”
“Now you know why we don’t do this very often,” says Sid, picking up his copy.
“We should go.” Seeing the place is good enough for me. It’s lovely to know restaurants exist. But Sid covers my wrist with his hand, stopping my attempt to run out the door.
“Let me treat you. Please. I want to watch you try something new.”
“So you brought me here for your own entertainment?”
“Something like that. You ever had oysters before?”
“Of course I’ve had oysters. Nasty as hell. But… they keep you alive.”
“Hmm, okay. Bad pick. Oh! Pickled beets. I’m guessing you’ve never had pickled beets.”
“You’re suggesting the gross stuff, aren’t you?”
“I happen to like pickled beets. I’m going to order some, and you can try them if you want.” He throws me a wink and my cheeks warm.
“French fries,” I say, stabbing my finger on one of the menu entries. “I’ve never had French fries. Or a burger. Those are supposed to be good.”
“Perfect! You can put pickled beets on a burger.”
“Sid!”
For all my protesting, when the food arrives, he turns out to be right.
I hadn’t tried pickled beets before and while I won’t be rushing out to blow what little money I have on another taste, they’re a pleasant mix of sweet and sour.
What really impresses me are the French fries, which are oily and salty to the point of decadence.
Sid also lets me try his fish tacos and the tangy coleslaw they come with.
It’s everything I could hope for from my first trip to a restaurant.
Delicious food, a seaside view… and a handsome guy to share it with.
I’ve officially decided I prefer Sid’s hair after the rain.
I don’t know why he bothers slicking it back.
There’s a natural wave that comes out in the wet weather.
If we were actually in love, I would run my fingers through it.
I get why people used restaurants for courtship in the past. Sid Charles has never looked better than he does lavishing me with an expensive meal.
But it’s not just that. I’ve never seen him smile so much before.
His cockeyed grin is out in full force as I take in every new experience.
When I ask him what he’s so giddy about, he only shrugs.
“I like seeing you so happy. Makes me remember what it was like when I first got to Salt Spring.”
Although he’s not totally trustworthy. Once I admit to liking the pickled beets, he asks our waiter to bring over some horseradish. And I—being an absolute fool—stick a spoonful in my mouth without a second thought. He laughs his head off as I gag down a full glass of water.
“I am gonna kill you for that,” I wheeze, once my mouth is no longer burning.
“Oh, come on. Now you know, you can try the same trick on April.”
“Are you kidding? She would kill me. You know… she’ll be crushed when she finds out I came here without her.”
“She’ll have lots of chances to experience places like this,” says Sid. “I’m glad it’s just us. You were right. We needed this.”
We. That word sends a strange buzz through me and I’m suddenly aware of his knees brushing mine beneath the table.
I haven’t said it out loud, because calling attention to it would only make things weird, but the longer we spend together, the more undeniable it is.
This is my first date. Even if there are complicated reasons behind it, all the key ingredients are here.
Delicious food. Seaside view. Handsome man.
I’m enjoying myself, but the realization still hurts.
I’ve been in love before, but what I shared with Curtis was simple and instinctual.
There were no grand gestures. No wooing.
We missed out on so many experiences. Now I can only wonder: is this what the real thing would have felt like?
I try to picture a day like this, perfect in all the same ways today is perfect, but with Curtis instead.
I can’t quite do it. Too much of what I’m enjoying is thanks to Sid.
“You okay?” Sid’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“Oh… yeah. I’m good.”
“I’m sorry about the horseradish.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“So something is bothering you.”
Damn it, I should have chosen my words more carefully. Or I should have waited to zone out and think about Curtis somewhere private.
“Everything’s wonderful, but…”
Sid nods. “I remember that part, too.”
“Part of what?”
“Coming here. The survivor’s guilt. That shit eats you up. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Yes.
I’m so close to saying it. Maybe this is finally the right time, here where it’s safe and we’re away from the realities of everyday life.
I consider telling him every story I can think of about Mum and Dad and Curtis and how I lost each one of them.
This is why we came here, isn’t it? To close the gaps in our story and I could fill in a big one right now.
But do I want to make myself cry in a public place?
His eyes are fixed on mine. Beneath the table, his fingers slide from his knee, taking one of my hands in his. Another pulse of energy lights up my body. We. We’re a team now. I should tell him.
The words are on the tip of my tongue.
“Sid Charles! Is that you?” A high-pitched voice comes between us with the force of an axe. We spring in opposite directions, hands and legs suddenly tucked safely around our seats.
Sid blinks, scanning the room for the source. “Pardon?”
“Ah! It’s totally you!” A woman by the bar waves, hard to make out in the gloom. “Give me just a sec. I’m going to order a drink, then I’ll be right over.”
“Okay,” Sid calls back. Under his breath, he adds, “Shit.”
“Who is that?” I ask.
Sid gives me a wan smile. “Someone else running for council this year.”
“Interesting! Ally or enemy?”
“Ally, technically,” says Sid. “But… she’s also my ex-girlfriend.”
“Oh, shit.”
“That’s not even the worst part.”
I would ask him what he means, except the woman is making her way to our table.
As the light from the windows falls on her, she glimmers, even in the gloom.
She’s wearing gold bobby pins in her sleek strawberry blonde hair and a black cowlneck dress made of clean new wool.
In other words, she looks like the kind of woman who can afford to eat at a restaurant.
“Oh! You have company. Sorry, you’re like, half his height. I didn’t see you,” she says, laughing apologetically. “I can bother you later, Sid. Enjoy your date.”
“No, come say hi.” Sid rises to greet her. “You two should probably meet.”
“Hello.” I mimic Sid and rise from the table. This is an ex-girlfriend—does that mean I should lean into the charade? It’s probably the safest course. I’m guessing he would have told a real wife about past relationships, so I smile and say, “I’ve heard so much about you!”
“Really?” Her hazel eyes widen. She is the sweetest, prettiest little thing I’ve met since coming to this island. And Sid used to go out with her? He must really be feeling the downgrade.
“Let me introduce you both properly.” Sid places an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Kayla, meet the famous Amy Sullivan. You can see why Tom wants us to work together, right?”
“Oh, stop!” she laughs and it’s the most perfect tinkling sound I’ve ever heard.
It’s a good thing Sid has an arm around me, because my knees buckle. He was right. Ex-girlfriend is hardly the worst of it.
Standing right in front of us is Tom Sullivan’s daughter.