42. 42 Gigi
42
42 GIGI:
ONLY WANNA BE WITH YOU
“Are you sure about this?” Luke looked around the empty restaurant, skepticism in his blue eyes. “You know I could get you a much fancier place, right?”
I straightened the paper placemat on the table. Three days had passed since The Ledge show. Since I’d lost Parker in the crowd. Every second of those days had led to tonight.
“I’m sure.” I dismissed the flutter of nerves in my tummy. “Not everything requires fancy shit, Luke.”
“Oh, I know.” He adjusted the flowers in their vase, bringing the pink peony more front and center. “I just thought you’d want something…nicer for such an important moment.”
“Shrimpy Dick’s is plenty nice, thank you.” I blew out a deep breath and willed myself to calm. “Besides, it’s sentimental.”
He hummed dismissively and took one more lap around the restaurant. Probably looking for ways to turn the fancy factor up in the all-night diner. He’d find none. Shrimpy Dick’s was an institution in Port Agnes for a reason, and that reason had nothing to do with expensive menus full of things people couldn’t pronounce, or bougie-ass decor.
It was perfect for what I was about to do.
With that thought, a zap of anxiety rushed down my spine. Pushing away from the booth, I paced. I paced and I thought. I thought and I panicked.
“Luke,” I said, gripping the back of the booth. “This is a horrible idea, isn’t it?”
Luke’s attention moved from the retro pendant lights above each table. “Oh, no.” He closed the distance between us quickly, intention in his every step. “We are not packing this in, Georgia. We’ve all put too much work in for you to run scared.”
I glared, but I wasn’t sure if it was for the Georgia part or the rest of it. “I love that my future is hanging in the balance, and you’re more concerned about the effort you’ve put in to help me potentially humiliate myself.”
“Hey, time is money.” He lifted his dark brows. “I could tell you exactly how much money this particular chunk of time was, if you’d like to know.”
“No, no.” I waved him off. “I’m already freaking out. I don’t need to know how much you spent to close down the diner for me.” Shuddering, I turned away from him. “Too much pressure.”
Fuck, it was too much pressure. My knees gave out and I sat in the first seat to my left. Tidal waves crashed over me, first doubt, then fear. I gripped the table tight as I tried to stay afloat. “Shit,” I hissed, squeezing my eyes shut. “What am I doing?”
“Hey.” Luke’s voice was stern. I looked up in time to watch him stride across the restaurant, eyes zeroed in on me. His chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it out, then he sat across from me. “Hey,” he said again when I didn’t immediately meet his eyes.
Sighing, I looked up. “Yeah?”
He didn’t speak immediately. Just looked me over in his assessing way, as if he was cataloguing data in his mind. Which, he probably was. Finally, as if deciding on a course of action, he sat back in his chair, resting an elbow on the table. “What would happen if this didn’t go well? Walk me through it.”
I ripped my gaze from his to stare at my wringing hands. “I don’t know,” I said, blood rushing in my ears as the thought settled over me. Parker, gone forever. “It’d fucking suck.”
“Right.” I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. “It would suck a fucking lot. But you know what else would happen?”
Annoyance had me lifting my head before I thought about it. “Please, do tell, you depressing oracle fuck.”
Luke laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ll be okay, you asshole. That’s what’ll happen.” He looked at me, expression wide open. “It’ll hurt like a motherfucker, and you’ll probably want to die. There might be days you regret ever being born, and days you have to force yourself to do the most mundane tasks.” His eyes drifted to a spot over my shoulder, a haunted look settling into them. He stared at nothing for a moment before he blinked and refocused back on me. “But,” he said, renewed determination in his blue eyes. “With time, you’ll be fine.”
I met his gaze, his words sinking in, one by one. Their meaning—for me, and for him—took aim straight for my heart. My eyes burned. “Luke,” I said, the single syllable coming out in a hoarse whisper. My heart hurt. For me, and for my friend. “What—”
“I have to get going.” He stood abruptly and cleared his throat, all signs of emotion tucked neatly behind his perfectly pressed suit.
I scrambled to my feet, grabbing his arm. “Wait,” I said, panic a heartbeat in my ears. “I can’t…what if…fuck, Luke. What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”
Luke pried my hand from his forearm and held it between both of his. His eyes searched mine as he measured his words and strung together an answer. As he tried to figure out how to diffuse the bomb before him. Finally, he spoke. “Well, first off, it would be her loss. No bullshit,” he added when he saw me about to protest. “Your loyalty is unmatched, and you love fucking hard. I’ve seen it in your relationship with your brother, and I’ve seen it in our friendship. I can only imagine how much harder you love when it’s a partner.”
I blinked, eyes blurry.
“Don’t cry,” Luke growled. “You’ll mess up your makeup.”
“Well, then don’t be so fucking sweet.” I tilted my head back and blinked furiously. “Asshole.”
“Ahh, there she is.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “My loyal and loving best friend.”
Despite the cyclone of emotion inside me, I laughed. Once I could see Luke clearly again, without the blur of tears, I asked, “And second?”
He nodded, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “Second,” he started, eyes going far-off for a moment. When he looked at me again, there was something unreadable buried beneath the surface. “At least you tried.”
His words hung in the air, implications swirling with encouragement, and, despite the unfathomable emotions roaring through me, I placed a steady hand on Luke’s shoulder. “After this?” I started, indicating with a glance everything around us. “We’re gonna have a long talk about whatever’s going on there. ” I waved a finger at his face. “I want that story.”
His jaw clenched. He looked like he was going to protest, but something stopped him. Instead, he tilted his head. Not an agreement, but not an outright no , either. I’d take it.
“You have,” he said with a glance at his watch, “about ten minutes to get your shit together. I should get going.” He braced his hands on my shoulders and gave me a brisk shake. “You’ve got this, Gi.”
I exhaled, slow and steady, and nodded. Luke nodded back, gave my shoulders one more squeeze, then left.
I stood in the middle of Shrimpy Dick’s, then. Alone, save for the cook in the back, finishing up the food I’d ordered. Soon, he’d be gone, too. Soon after that…
Blowing out a breath, I brushed my hands over my hips and surveyed the restaurant one last time. The bright overhead lights had been turned off, leaving only the pendant lights over each table around the perimeter to illuminate the space. Our table, the one in the back corner, was glowed with candlelight. The fancy candelabra kind, gold and glimmering in the center of the table. I’d wanted tea lights. Something subtly romantic. But when I requested candles, this was what Luke showed up with.
Fuck, it was too much.
“Shit,” I muttered, stomping toward the table. I’d just leaned in to blow the candles out when there were voices at the front of the restaurant.
“…don’t know, Anya. It doesn’t look open to me.”
My stomach somersaulted. Straightening, I stood stock still, hand on the back of the booth, eyes glued to the corner they’d round at any second.
“You kidding me?” Anya retorted, all smooth and casual. “This place is always open.”
“But why is it so dark? What if…” I could hear their shoes skid to a stop on the tile floor. Then, Parker whispered, “What if they’re getting robbed? Right now?”
I pressed my lips together to stifle a laugh. I could perfectly picture her face right now, eyes wide with worry—and maybe a dash of excitement, my warped little weirdo—and my chest warmed.
“Oh, my god,” Anya shot back, distinctly not whispering. “Why do you always jump to crime?”
“Why don’t you?” Parker replied, and I knew she was primly smoothing her dress, or straightening her cardigan, as she said it.
Anya didn’t dignify that with a response. I could barely hear their footsteps over the pounding of my heart. Gripping the booth tighter, I straightened. I would not run, I told myself. Even though the bathroom was a handful of steps behind me, I would not hide, either.
Fuck, I wanted to hide.
“If I get murdered because you really wanted country fried steak and a milkshake for dinner, I swear I’m going to haunt you,” Parker was saying as they approached. “I’m going to haunt you so bad. I’ll haunt you so bad, you—”
Her spiel ended as they came around the corner to find me standing there. Parker froze, looking from me to Anya, who stood right behind her, then to the table, with its stupid, over-the-top candles. My heart leapt when her eyes found me again. God, she looked beautiful, the pink roses on her dress mirroring the flush in her cheeks, her cornflower eyes fixed on mine. My fingers itched to trace over every hollow and curve of her face, to make sure she was real. That she was here. That I was not hallucinating. I gripped the booth tighter and forced myself to stay put.
“Well, what do you know?” Anya crashed through the moment like a boom of thunder on a cloudless day. “Turns out, I want pizza for dinner instead.”
Parker tore her gaze from mine and whirled on her heel, her sneaker squeaking against the floor. “Oh, okay. What were you thinking? Take out? Or that fancy place on West—”
“Oh, no.” Anya turned her back around to face me. “I know how much you were looking forward to your pancakes.”
“Anya,” Parker said, turning around again. She grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her a few steps away.
It took everything in me to stay put, to not surge forward and beg her to stay, to hear me out. Instead, I waited while she conferred with her sister in whispers. Furious-sounding whispers. I fixed my eyes on the flickering candles and sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening. Please, I thought. Please don’t let her go.
Someone was listening, because when I looked up, there she was, the soft light painting her in shades of gold. I blinked, slow and deliberate, just in case she was an illusion. A mirage. But when I opened my eyes, she was still there.
Relief pushed a breath from my lungs, nerves prevented me from inhaling another. “H-hey,” I managed, sounding like I’d run a marathon. “Fancy meeting you here.”
That, at least, earned a smile. Which allowed my lungs to ease enough to inhale. Forcing myself to uproot from the floor, I gestured to her side of the booth. “Please, sit. Our food should be out soon.”
Frowning, Parker looked around the empty restaurant. “So, it is open?” she asked as she slid into the booth.
“Yeah. Well, kind of.” I sat, too. “Just for us.” At her confused look, I went on. “Sometimes, it pays to have a friend who can rent out an entire restaurant for you, so that you can grovel in peace.”
Her eyes found mine over the flickering candles, gaze searching. I waited, hands twisting in my lap, for her to speak. Whether she would hear me out or leave me sitting here alone, with these stupid candles and way too much breakfast food, I didn’t know. But I hoped it was the first one.
Clearing her throat, she straightened in her seat. “There’ll be pancakes?”
I nodded, checking the spark of hope in my chest before it prematurely flared to life. “And bacon.”
Narrowing her eyes, she seemed to be weighing her love of breakfast food against sharing said breakfast food with the woman who was stupid enough to let her walk away. Just when I thought she was going to get up and leave, she nodded. “Okay.”
The air whooshed from me. “Okay.” I nodded, too. “Okay, good. That’s good.”
“But no talking till the food arrives.” She settled into her seat and draped her napkin over her lap. “I skipped lunch today, and I’m verging on hangry.”
Nodding again, I mirrored her position and cast a glance toward the kitchen. “Should be any minute now. Any…minute. Any damn minute. Any—” Abruptly, I stood. “You know what? I’m gonna go see how things are goi—”
“Gigi.”
Her soft voice wrapping around my name brought me back to earth. I turned to find her watching me, lips tilted in amusement. When she knew she had my attention, she said simply, “Sit.”
I sat.
She reached across the table and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh.”
I shh’d.
About a thousand minutes later, our food arrived. I thanked the cook-turned-waiter for the night, and made a mental note to tell Luke to tip him extra because I couldn’t remember his name. Then, I waited with painstaking patience while Parker buttered her pancakes and drizzled syrup over them. She cut a perfect triangle from the stack and lifted it to her lips. I watched as she chewed, eyes drifting closed with happiness, and I tried to recall everything I’d planned to say.
My own pancakes remained untouched as Parker ate. The only sounds in the empty restaurant were the clink of silverware and the happy little sounds she made with each bite. Finally, she dragged her last bite through the syrup on her plate and ate it. Putting down her fork, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and shook her hair away from her face.
“Okay,” she said. “I forgive you.”
I launched into my spiel almost before she’d even finished speaking, the words coming out of me in one long string. “So, I know this is a little late, but I thought you deserved a date—a real one, not just practice. Because you’re not practice. And since this was the place we had our practice date, I thought we should have a real one here, too. And I—” My mouth snapped shut as my brain caught up to what she said. “What?”
Parker shrugged, that telltale curl falling over her shoulder. I wanted to twirl it around my fingers. I wanted to hear her say those words again.
“I forgive you,” she repeated, each word nestling against my heart like a trio of kittens, warm and soft. “Now, would you please kiss me?”