“What? A whole weekend?” Walker asks, his eyes wide with shock.
“Well, I’m leaving here at two on Saturday. I’ll be back on Monday morning,” I answer, trying to act nonchalant.
The truth is this is a big deal for me. I’ve never taken a weekend off like this. Never not worked a Saturday night. Even when I was a little sick two years ago, I still dragged my ass into work, masked up, and did my fucking job.
I look up and realize three sets of eyes are watching me, and they’re all smiling. “What?”
Jameson leans back in his chair. “Nothing, man. Happy for you.”
“Let’s talk about the burger,” I say, changing the subject. I hate having attention on me like this, especially when it comes to Lyndee. I don’t know what we are, but I’m hoping to have the conversation this weekend when we go away. We hang out as much as we can, and the sex is fucking phenomenal. I call her my girl, but that’s the only label we’ve put on it. I have no interest in anyone else, which is a big sign this is headed into somewhat uncharted waters.
But I’m not scared.
Worried, yes. I’m sure I make a shitty boyfriend. I’m needy and moody and often completely self-absorbed, but she knows this and still wants to be around me. She’ll even put me in my place when necessary, which is exactly what I need. So as long as she’s willing to work with me, I’m willing to give this whole relationship thing a try.
“What’s it called?” Walker asks, eyeing the veggie combination on top with a critical eye.
“Between the Sheets. All the goodness is between two slices of Asiago cheese,” I state, going through the ingredients and describing the slight changes I’ve made since I first cooked this burger for Lyndee.
Jameson is the first one to take a bite, not at all afraid of whatever concoction I create. “Damn, that’s good,” he mumbles, mouth full of food.
Walker follows suit, taking a second bite before he adds, “Delicious. Mal would love this.”
Isaac just stares at his food, eyeing the green stuff as if it were to jump off his plate and bite him. “I’m not sold on the spinach. Who wants spinach on a burger?”
Sighing, I grab my own burger and take a healthy bite. “Just try it.”
He does, reluctantly, and chews slowly. “It’s not bad, but not my favorite. I can see it being a big draw though. The cheese and the sauce give it good flavor.”
“As does the tomato and spinach,” I reply with a clipped tone.
“You don’t have to get testy. I’m just not a fan of it, and never thought I’d see it on a cheeseburger. Again, it’s not bad, and I think it will sell well. I’ll have my sister get on social media marketing to promote it for next week,” Numbers says, making notes before diving into his fries.
“I’m not making you another one,” I state, only partially kidding. “You can scrape off what you don’t like.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to ask. Quit giving me a hard time. Did you not get laid last night? You’re awfully grumpy.”
I didn’t get laid actually, but I’m not about to tell him that. Usually, I’d have no problems talking about sex with my friends, but not now. Not when it’s Lyndee. What we do is private and not to be shared with these idiots.
“Speaking of Mal,” Walker says, grinning from ear to ear as his fiancée walks toward our table. “Try this.”
She takes what’s left of his burger and takes a healthy bite. Her eyes widen in delight as she chews. “Oh my God, is that spinach?”
“See?” I ask, glaring at Isaac. “Someone with taste.”
He just rolls his eyes and continues to eat his fries, smothering them in ketchup.
“Yes, this is so good,” she mumbles, taking another big bite and leaving Walker grinning. When she tries to hand it back, he waves her off, telling her to finish it. She does, before diving into his fries too. “I should get back to work. My boss is a real PITA.”
I snort out a laugh.
“PITA?” Numbers asks, glancing around the table to find everyone laughing.
“Pain in the ass. She’s got Jasper’s number,” Jameson chimes in.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get back to work or your PITA boss may fire you.” I won’t, she’s a great server and an asset to the business.
Mallory rolls her eyes dramatically. “He wouldn’t. He needs me too much. No one else puts up with his moody ass.”
She’s not wrong, and the guys all think so too by the way they chuckle.
“Jasper’s taking Lyndee away this Saturday. They’re in love,” Walker sings.
There’s no missing Mallory’s surprise. “Really? I like her and could use another female in the group to combat all this testosterone.”
Before I can reply, Isaac speaks up. “You have Savannah. I’m sure she’d love to hang out with you more.”
I glance her way and notice the cringe she tries to cover quickly. Fortunately, Numbers misses it, since he’s poking at the spinach on his plate. He misses the gagging face Jameson makes too. Probably for the best.
“That would be great,” Mallory replies sweetly, even though I can tell she’s not in the least bit interested. “All right, I need to get back over there before Marla takes my tables.” She leans down and kisses Walker firmly on the lips.
A few weeks ago, I would have been annoyed by the interruption and their over-the-top displays of affection, but now, all I think about is how great it would be to kiss Lyndee right now. To have her be a part of my day, like Mallory is to Walker.
And then there’s Lizzie.
Lizard.
What would it be like to have one of those little people running around? For the longest time, I would have declared it not for me. The diapers, the crying, the demand that comes with raising a child.
But then I picture the other side of parenting. How excited Lizard is when she gives Walker a new picture for his office wall and how hard she hugs him when he picks her up from preschool. The sweet way she whispers she loves him as she snuggles into her little bed before falling asleep.
Somehow, those images are more vibrant, more overpowering than the ones I always saw when I thought about having kids. It just wasn’t for me. I loved spending the afternoon with my niece and nephew but am always happier when I’m back at my own place, surrounded in peace and quiet.
Now, kids don’t seem so bad.
Especially when Lyndee’s in the picture.
After our meeting, I head back to my office and get a little work done. I do a quick inventory and place orders, all while my mind is completely distracted by thoughts of the woman who monopolizes my every thought. I bring up my email and delete all the junk. I send a few replies and finish one I started earlier left in my draft folder, and when everything is clean and filed, I finally shut my laptop down.
Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s near dinnertime. The bakery is closed, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe my girl is across the street, prepping tomorrow’s breads and donuts. Instead of going to the grill and getting to work, I find myself walking to the bar, to the wall of windows that faces the street.
The ones I can see directly into the bakery, to the woman who’s still working away in her kitchen. She’s bent over the island—the very one I took her on when we baked her birthday cake—kneading a big ball of dough.