Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [83]
Julian placed both of his hands over his heart “Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry. I’ll always love you and regret that my work came between us, but I cannot abandon those poor children to some ham-handed caveman when I alone possess the necessary…” Julian’s head whipped around as a waiter passed. “Oh, that looks good. What is that, salmon? I think I might order that.” Julian looked back at me. “Where was I?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. My family will be crushed.” My buddy laughed. “Julian,” I said more quietly, “you know how you said we weren’t going to keep looking for a man?”
“Yeah?” he said, frowning.
“Well, I still want a man.”
He sat back in his seat and sighed. “I know. Me, too. It’s just so hard.”
I sat back. “I have a crush on my neighbor. The ex-con.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Julian muttered.
“He’s just a little…”
“Much?” my friend suggested.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “I think he might like me, but as for doing anything about it, I’m just too…”
“Chickenshit?”
“Yes,” I admitted. Julian nodded in sympathy. “But what about you, Julian? You must have to fight men off with a stick. The waiter keeps looking at you. He’s cute. You could talk to him, at least.”
“Well, maybe I will.”
I gazed out the window at the river. The sun was sinking into a spectacular pile of buttery clouds, and the sky was pale peach and rose. It was lovely, and I felt myself relaxing.
“Okay, give it a try, Grace,” Julian said, once we’d ordered dinner (he’d ignored the cute waiter) and were sipping our cool and unusual martinis. “Remember Lou from Meeting Mr. Right? We already know rule number one.”
“I’m the most beautiful woman here,” I said obediently.
“Yes, Grace, but you have to feel it. Sit up straight. Stop shlunching.”
“Yes, Mother,” I said, taking another sip.
“Rule number two. Look around the room and smile, because you know that every man here would be lucky to have you, and you can have any man you want.”
I did as told. My eyes stopped on an elderly man, well into his eighties. Sure, he’d be lucky to have me. As proven with Dave of the Leg Bag, I had a certain je ne sais quoi when it came to older men. But would the bartender, who looked hauntingly like a young Clark Gable sans moustache, feel that way?
“‘Believe in yourself,’” Julian intoned. “No, Grace, you’re doing it wrong. Look. What’s the problem?”
I rolled my eyes. “The problem is that it’s stupid, Julian. Put me next to I don’t know, Natalie, for example, or Margaret, for another, and I’m not the most beautiful woman in the room. Ask Andrew if he was lucky to have me, and he’d probably say hell yes! Because if it weren’t for me, he’d never have met his darling bride-to-be.”
“Ooh! Are we having our period? Sit and watch, darling,” Julian said, ignoring my diatribe. I watched sulkily as my buddy sat back in his seat and gazed around the room. Bing, bang, boom. Three women at three different tables stopped midsentence and blushed.
“Sure, you’re great with women,” I said. “But you don’t want to date women. Think I didn’t see you just about crawl under the table when our waiter was fawning all over you? Try it on the guys, Julian.”
He narrowed his lovely eyes at me. “Fine.” His own face grew a little pink, but I had to give him credit for trying.
And sure enough, his eyes met our waiter’s, who snatched a plate from the kitchen counter and practically vaulted over a table to get to us. “Here you are,” he breathed. “Oysters Rockefeller. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Julian said, looking up at him. The waiter’s lips parted. Julian didn’t look away.
Well, well. Would my friend actually break his self-imposed chastity and find Mr. Right after all? Smiling, I took a bite of the oysters—yummy—and decided to check my messages while the two good-looking men gazed soulfully at each other. Gracious! Julian was actually initiating conversation! Would wonders never cease.
I’d turned off my phone in last period today when giving my freshmen a test and hadn’t turned it back on. I wasn’t a cell phone lover, to be honest. Many was the day that