Table for Two (22 page)

"You know I've waited all evening to see you tell your friend good-bye."

"I'm not telling him good-bye."

"Why not?" He glanced around the bookshelf and stared at Glen with a frown. "He keeps crying."

"That's because he's touched."

"In the head?"

"The poems remind him of his ex-wife."

"How can he be thinking of his ex-wife while sitting next to you? Seems a little off."

She scowled.

He outlined her lips with his finger. "Forgive me, I can't help being unkind to the competition."

She pushed his hand away. "He's not your competition."

His eyes lit up with the confidence of expected victory.

"He's not?"

"No," she said coolly. "You're not even in the running."

The expression in his eyes turned flat—a dull bronze. His arms fell from her waist. For a long moment he didn't say anything, just stared at her in his intense unreadable way. "At least you're honest," he said eventually, his voice neutral. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned.

She was ready to see him go, but something else made her call his name. "Drake—"

He spun around, his eyes spitting fire. "What? Do you wish to soothe me by telling me it wouldn't work? How you'd like to remain friends?" He pointed a finger at her. "Erase it from your mind. Now go back to your drippy friend and do not waste my time or yours. I will not be one of your toy boys." He turned on his heel and stalked away.

Cassie stood riveted, waiting for the feeling of freedom to come crashing over her. Instead a sense of overwhelming loss crawled over her skin, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. The sorcerer was out of her life, gone forever, leaving her to the world that was familiar. Why did forever seem more like a sentence than a gift? Tossing aside practical thought, she ran after him. But she was too late. The night had taken him. Life continued. People pushed past her, cars drove by, the stars twinkled above, and she was alone—free. Blinking back tears of frustration and emptiness, she went back inside the store.

Chapter 10

"Aw, hell," Eric muttered when he saw his brother's face as he entered the cafe.

Jackie turned in her seat and said something even more colorful. She looked at Eric. "I guess things didn't go according to plan."

"Yes, the fact that Cassie isn't here says it all."

Drake was supposed to bring Cassie to the cafe so they could meet her and treat her to dessert, but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen.

Drake sat down and reached for the cigarettes inside his jacket pocket.

"This is a nonsmoking section," Eric mentioned as Drake raised the cigarette to his lips.

He sent him a cool glance. "Why would you get a table here?"

"Because we don't smoke."

"And we want you to stop," Jackie added.

"Well, it won't be today." He lit the cigarette.

Jackie snatched it away and stubbed it out while Eric asked for a table in the smoking section. Once seated, Drake lit up another cigarette and stared out at the crowd. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, feeling their eyes on him.

"But you have to," Jackie said. "Perhaps we could help you."

"I don't want or need help."

"You shouldn't have written her a poem." She rested her elbows on the table and shook her head. "What do you two know about poetry? She was probably offended."

He slowly exhaled, watching the smoke float upward. "It wasn't the poem, it was me."

"But what did you do?"

He glared at her. "I don't want to talk about it."

Eric lifted a menu. "Let's at least order something while we slowly die from secondhand smoke."

* * *

"I should give this Cassie woman a piece of my mind," Jackie said as she finished her pecan pie.

Eric studied the bill. "What would you have left?"

"Shut up."

"Don't worry about her," Drake said. "It's over." He tossed some money on the table. "That should cover me."

Eric handed him back the money. "I'm paying."

Drake ignored him and stood. He zipped up his jacket, glanced around the cafe, then looked at his brother and sister. "Don't call me tonight." He pointed a finger at Jackie. "I mean it. No badda mi."

She nodded. He left.

"If I ever get my hands on that Cassie, I don't know what I'll do," Jackie grumbled as she watched Drake leave. "She really hurt him. "

Eric shrugged, shuffling through his wallet. He would return Drake's money later. "He'll live. He's been hurt before." His voice dropped below his sister's hearing. "We all have."

* * *

Dread fell on Cassie as the elevator ascended to her floor. She didn't know how to end the evening without hurting Glen's feelings. She knew he'd want to come in to talk, perhaps share a drink, but all she wanted to do was get rid of him.

"I had a wonderful time as usual," she said, stepping out on her floor. She inwardly sighed when he followed.

He rested a casual arm on her shoulders. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Oh, yes," she said, trying to resist the urge to shrug his arm away.

Door 712 creaked open. "Have a good time?" Mr. Gianolo asked.

Cassie forced a smile. "Lovely."

"Where did you two go?"

"Baden's to hear a poetry reading."

"I hope you had a nice nap." He chuckled at his own wit and closed the door.

Cassie turned on the lights and watched Glen make himself comfortable on the couch. "I'm really not in the mood to entertain," she said.

"That's okay, I won't stay long."

She put down her bag, resigned. "What would you like to drink?"

"Juice is fine."

She opened the fridge. Boy, was she hungry! She bit her lip at the sight of a barbecued turkey leg, at the thought of making deviled eggs, or wrapping apple slices in cheese. She grabbed grape juice and closed the door. She'd indulge once Glen left. It took her nearly twenty minutes to get rid of him. He discussed the poets while food called her from the fridge. The stove begged for the smell of sweet blueberry muffins, the toaster asked for a nice crisp bagel, a bag of chips and a box crackers shouted from the cupboards. When he finally stood she nearly wept with joy. Once she'd shut the door behind him, the binge began—when it was over she did cry. She felt like a weak-willed slob. Why had she done that to herself? It was Drake's fault of course. If he hadn't come into her life, she wouldn't be stuffing her face now. But no, that was wrong. She had always done this when she was upset and she was definitely upset, but she'd get over it. She would exercise tomorrow and make up for today.

A week passed and she felt much better about the binge. She had lost five pounds by sticking to a strict low-calorie diet and exercising twice a day. Her book was coming along—slowly, but at least that was something.

She had just flipped on the computer to begin a day's work, when the doorbell rang. She glanced through the peephole, then rested her forehead against the door, gathering her strength. She finally opened it.

Adriana stepped inside. "You haven't returned my calls," she accused.

"I've been busy. I'm working on a book, remember?"

Her friend sat down, smoothing out her white shorts. "How is it going?"

"Fine."

"Liar." She crossed her legs and sat forward. "So how was your date with Glen? I hope you brought enough tissues for the sob stories."

"I had a lovely time."

"Lovely?" She opened her compact and touched up her lipstick. "How boring. So how is Drake doing?"

"I don't know." She headed for the kitchen, ready to avoid the subject. "Would you like anything?"

"No." Adriana snapped the compact closed and narrowed her eyes. "What have you done?"

Cassie folded her arms. "Why do you assume I've done anything? Perhaps he just got tired of me."

"I know this is your fault because you're Ms. Sabotage."

Cassie flopped down onto the couch. "Oh, please."

"Remember Nick Terrel?"

"No."

Adriana waved a finger at her. "He liked you in our freshman year, but you never gave him a chance."

"He was a frat boy."

"What's your point?"

"It wouldn't have worked."

"We'll never know that." Adriana crossed her legs and swung her foot. "So what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." Cassie stopped—that was a lie. "I really liked him but he wanted more than I could give him and I wanted to save him any heartache." She rested her head back. "He wrote me a poem for heaven's sake."

Adriana stared at her, stunned. "What?"

Cassie sat up. "And had it read at the poetry reading I went to with Glen. Talk about gall!"

"You mean he had the gall to publicly display how much he cares for you?" she said with mock outrage. "That bastard."

"I know," Cassie agreed, missing her sarcasm.

Adriana rested her head back and threw an arm over her eyes. "You could drive a friend to drink," she moaned.

"Why can't you see this from my point of view?"

"I'd be afraid to. Drake was perfect for you. A perfect remedy after a virus like Timothy."

She bit her lower lip. "Actually I went out with Timothy a couple of weeks ago," she confessed.

Adriana sat up and shuddered. "What for?"

"His father is dying. He wanted someone by his side."

"Tell him to get a psychiatrist, he can afford it."

"We had a really nice time," she said, thoughtful.

Adriana rolled her eyes and stood. "Let's go shopping."

She looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"Because it will make me feel better."

* * *

"This is an expensive way to raise your spirits," Cassie said, reading the price tag on the blouse Adriana was admiring.

"Be quiet and pick something. I'll buy it for you."

Cassie adjusted the hat and sunglasses she was wearing. She hated clothes shopping. Nothing she liked was ever in her size. "No, thanks. I don't feel like searching in the big and beautiful section today."

Adriana pointed. "Then check that rack for me. I need to find a silver blouse."

Cassie began searching through the rack and picked up a grayish blouse. She held it up against her to see how the color would look against her slacks.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a sales clerk said. "If you would like to find designer clothes in your size I could direct you to our women's section."

The fact that the clerk was a coiffured older woman with a sweet smile and good intentions didn't quell Cassie's desire to wring her neck.

"I'm looking for a friend," she said in a tight voice.

"Oh." The sales assistant took a hasty step back. "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be right over there." She pointed to the checkout table.

Cassie tried to smooth her sneer into a smile. "Thank you." She put the blouse back and tapped Adriana on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go. I've been spotted as an outsider."

"What are you talking about?" Adriana asked, running her hand over the soft material of a blouse.

"Never mind." She glanced around the store, eager to leave. "Are you ready yet?"

"No. I can't feel better unless I buy something."

"Then I'll be in the bookstore next door."

"Fine." She put the blouse in her cart and picked up another. She sent Cassie a sly glance. "Promise me that if you meet a wonderful handsome man you'll run in the opposite direction."

Cassie playfully bumped her with her hip. "I'll do my best."

* * *

She browsed through the fiction section, then headed for self-help. It was always good to see the competition and borrow some ideas. She was reaching for
1,000 Ways to Be Romantic
high on the shelf, when a large man behind her grabbed it.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked politely.

She stopped. She knew that voice. She took a step back from the shelf and promptly trod on his foot. She turned to her present nightmare—Drake.

"I'm sorry," she said, making her voice breathy. She lowered her hat and pushed up her glasses.

Drake rubbed his instep. "It was my fault. I was standing too close. Is this the book you wanted?" He held it up.

She took it and held it close, affecting a demure smile. "Yes, thank you."

He took out a piece of paper. "I'm looking for
Surviving Crowds.
Could you help me find it?"

Leave, leave, leave,
her mind urged her, but her body wouldn't move. "It's a rather dull book. What do you need it for?"

"Class reunion in about a month."

"That book is for people with real social dysfunction."

"I come pretty close," he said grimly.

"No, you don't. I mean I doubt it," she quickly amended when his face changed. She searched through the books and picked one.
"How to Please a Crowd.
It's quick and to the point."

"Thanks." He flipped through the pages. "Hopefully this will help, nothing else seems to."

She thought of his dogeared copy of
The Fear of Ridicule
and winced.

"Hey, Drake, make a new friend?" a young woman, asked approaching them.