Chapter 4
Bess
A quick glance at the clock shows it’s too late for me to cancel now.
I’d planned to, even as I drove away after saying yes to dinner with Hugo.
I wasn’t going to go through with it, but Strange Brew was packed when I walked in after filling my prescription in town.
I was busy all afternoon and I didn’t lock the doors until a few minutes before five.
Then I had the kitchen to clean up and get ready for tomorrow morning, and I only just now got up to my apartment.
It’s twenty to six. I barely have time to rinse off and throw on some clean clothes. Dry shampoo will have to fix my hair, washing it will have to wait for tomorrow night.
I keep telling myself it’s just dinner; he reminded me often enough we’re just friends, and it’s not like we’ve never shared a meal before. So then, why does the thought of sitting across from him at the swanky new restaurant in town have butterflies swarming my stomach?
It feels like a date, that’s why. I’m pretty sure it was the comment about my boobs that put that thought in my head.
I’m probably reading way more into that than I should.
Hugo’s a guy, guys joke about boobs, it’s genetically imprinted, like scratching their balls when they think no one is looking, or sniff-testing their clothes to determine their cleanliness.
Some may come off a little more polished than others, but ultimately, they are all the same underneath.
Still…
I rip the shower cap off my head and quickly towel dry my body, before I duck into my closet for clothes to wear.
One perk of having only three minutes left is there is no time to agonize over what to wear.
I grab the first thing I see, which is the cobalt-blue wraparound sweater Savvy gave me for Christmas that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet.
I hope it’ll look okay with my go-to pair of black wide-legged pants I wear any time my jeans aren’t fancy enough.
I get dressed, going on faith alone, since there’s no time to check my reflection. Then I give my hair a quick upside-down spray of dry shampoo to fluff it up. The knock on my outside door comes as I’m blindly wiping some gloss on my lips.
Instantly panic sets in.
What the hell was I thinking?
This is not a good idea and it won’t end well.
For me.
A few weeks ago, I felt in full control of my life. Everything was where it belonged—either buried deep or kept at a safe distance—and I knew my place in this world.
Somehow, between then and now, the wheels have come off and my life is spinning off course in every which direction. And right now, I stand to lose more than just my control.
This time the knock on my door is a bit firmer, and I briefly wonder if I can pretend I’m not here, but then I hear Hugo’s voice.
“I know you’re in there, Bess. Open the door.”
Busted.
“Hold your horses,” I snap defensively. “I’ll be right there.”
I slip my small cross-body bag over my head and stuff in my phone. Then I grab my duffel coat and my keys, and open the door.
Dammit.
He looks good. Dark jeans, a cream-colored sweater with a few buttons at the neck, and a black car coat. His hair looks rumpled, like it usually does, but his angular jaw is clean-shaven. That’s where my eyes linger until his voice draws my attention.
“That’s a fantastic color on you.”
Automatically, one of my hands smooths down the front of my sweater, making sure my Buddha pouch is well hidden.
“It was a gift from Savvy.”
“She has good taste. It looks great on you.”
Weirdly enough, I appreciate the fact he chooses to compliment something I’m wearing versus me. It takes some of the pressure off.
“You clean up well yourself,” I feel comfortable sharing.
“Yeah, well, I’ll have you know that took a lot of effort,” he jokes, taking my coat from me and holding it open for me to slip my arms into.
Then he turns me around and starts closing a few toggles on my coat.
“It’s chilly out there,” he explains, as I hold my breath when his fingers brush close to my chest. “I hope you’re hungry, because I’m starving, and I had a quick glimpse at their menu.”
Then he grabs my hand and leads me from the apartment, taking my keys to lock up behind me, before guiding me down the outside fire escape.
My apartment is accessible from the stairs in the rear of the coffee shop, but my official front door is at the top of the fire escape at the back of the building.
I only use those stairs when I take my car, which is parked in one of the two parking spaces in the back alley.
Tonight, Hugo’s truck is parked in the second spot.
It feels almost intimate, seeing it towering next to my little Toyota.
I’m grateful for the running board, trying to get into the passenger seat of his truck, although I wouldn’t have put it past Hugo to lift me in if I hadn’t managed on my own.
“So where is Carson tonight?” I ask in an effort to fill the silence in the truck.
“Having dinner at Tate’s. Savvy invited him over,” he shares, briefly taking his eyes off the road to glance over at me.
Since Nate returned to Silence with his daughter last spring, it didn’t take long for him and Savvy to rekindle the connection they lost well over a decade ago. That makes Savannah Tatum’s stepmother, especially now she’s pregnant with Tate’s little brother or sister too.
The girl was hungry for some motherly nurturing after losing her mother.
That’s also what first connected Tate and Carson; the loss of their respective mothers.
The girl’s father hadn’t been too keen on the idea, especially given the age difference between the two, but everyone can see how protective and smitten with her Carson is.
“I guess Nate is getting used to the idea of his fifteen-year-old daughter dating,” I observe.
“I don’t think there is ever a time a father gets used to his daughter dating.
In truth, I’m not sure I could handle it, I’m relieved I have a son, it’s certainly a little easier.
I told Carson in no uncertain terms if he screws up with this girl, if he is anything but an absolute gentleman around her, he’s not only going to get his butt kicked by yours truly, but I’ll invite Tate’s father and her stepmother to have a go at him.
” He chuckles at himself. “You should’ve seen his face.
I’m pretty sure he was more afraid of what Savvy might do to him than her dad or me. ”
I smile. “That only confirms he’s a smart kid, because there isn’t a doubt in my mind Savvy would do damage.”
The easy conversation serves to alleviate some of my anxiety, and by the time Hugo pulls his truck up to the quaint new restaurant just south of town, my stomach is no longer in knots and I’m actually a little hungry.
The Fusion is housed in an old warehouse.
They maintained the original industrial feel with the old brick and exposed ductwork, but juxtaposed it with large windows, sleek glass tables, rich, jewel-toned fabrics on the luxurious chairs and banquettes, and a gorgeous, gleaming marble floor.
At the center of each table is a simple, but modern, copper standing lamp, creating little warm islands of privacy in each booth.
“Wow,” I express under my breath as the server leads us through the restaurant.
Hugo’s hand at my elbow gives me a little squeeze in confirmation.
“Chair or bench?” he asks me when we arrive at our table.
“Bench,” I opt.
“You can just tap the base of the lamp to dim or brighten the light,” the girl, who introduced herself as Rachel, indicates. She hands us each a menu. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Would you care for some wine?” Hugo prompts when I hesitate.
I’m not supposed to drink alcohol with the pills Dana prescribed, but it seems like a waste to just nurse a glass of water in a restaurant like this.
Beautiful as it is, it’s a little intimidating, and I can’t help feeling a little out of place.
Still, at least I can pretend to belong by sipping a glass of wine.
I can always start the medication tomorrow.
“I would love some. Do you have a pinot grigio?”
“In fact, we do. We have an Italian Santa Margherita pinot grigio, or a Church and State sparkling pinot gris from British Columbia.”
“Oh, I’ll try the BC sparkling one.”
I have no idea of the brand names. I’m not really a wine aficionado, I just know what I like. The odd time I buy a bottle, I look for pinot grigio and then let myself be guided by the price tag and appealing label. A sparkling wine sounds festive.
“Sir?” the server addresses Hugo.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Excellent. Let me get those for you, and I’ll give you some time to study the menu. You can find today’s specials on the blackboard on the wall behind you.”
When she walks out of earshot, Hugo leans over the table and stage whispers, “I have no idea what I just ordered, but please tell me it doesn’t come with an umbrella.”
An unexpected, hearty laugh bubbles up all the way from my toes. Hugo’s eyes sparkle as he sits back in his chair, a pleased smile on his handsome mouth.
Then my phone rings in my tiny purse, interrupting the moment.
“I’m so sorry. Let me turn it off.”
I fumble to free my phone, and quickly turn off the ringer.
But not before I recognize the number on the screen.
Hugo
“Everything okay?”
I’m not sure what happened, but it felt like the air got sucked out of the restaurant just now.
She plasters on a smile and nods. “Yes, fine. I meant to turn off the sound before and forgot.”
She places the phone face down on the table beside her glass.
“Please don’t on my account. I have mine on vibrate, but I want to be reachable for emergencies.” I narrow my eyes on her face which has gone pale. “I hope that wasn’t one.”
At the questioning look on her face, I clarify, “An emergency, I hope that call wasn’t one.”
“Oh, no. Wrong number.”
Odd. How would she know it was a wrong number if she didn’t answer the call?