Page 38 of Missed Communication
“I’ll have the same. Actually, could I do half iced tea and half lemonade?”
“Of course.” Walter nods as he writes it down. “Did you need a few more minutes with the menu?”
“Yes, please.”
He leaves and Aubrey whispers, “You could’ve ordered a Long Island iced tea or something.”
I lean forward to whisper back, “The woman I’m dating can’t drink, so I’m not going to.”
“It’s really okay, I don’t mind.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Ms. Raine?”
“No,” she chuckles, a light blush tinting her cheeks. “But I don’t want you to feel like you can’t enjoy yourself because I’m not drinking.”
“I don’t need alcohol to enjoy your company.”
My comment leaves her speechless, and I love how since we met I’ve occasionally been able to wear down her tough exterior. She avoids the praise by focusing on the menu, and I take a second look. Everything sounds amazing, but I’m not sure what foods she’s avoiding.
“I’d suggest a medium-rare steak, but something tells me your doctor would advise against it.”
Aubrey huffs a small laugh. “Yep. Also, no sushi, no deli meat, no brie—which should be illegal because I’d give anything to take a bite out of a wedge right now.”
“What are your cravings other than cheese? Anything standing out?”
“Hmm… the portobello fries sound good.Oohand the fried chicken sandwich, but that doesn’t sound like something we could split.”
“Order it. Whatever you don’t finish, I’m sure I will.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffs. “You can’t eat fries, a salad, your own entree, some of mine,anddessert.”
“I’m a hungry boy; I worked up an appetite today.”
Aubrey pins me with a glare over her menu. “That doesn’t burn calories.”
“Sure it does. Also, I went to the gym this morning, and my hotel is a fifteen-minute walk. And I may need my energy tonight.”
“That’s quite presumptuous of you, Mr. Wilson.”
I keep my attention on the menu as I correct, “I don’t know where you live, but if it’s close, once I ensure you’re home, I may walk back to the hotel instead of getting a rideshare.”
“Wait a minute.” She drops the menu onto the table. “Did you say hotel?”
“Yeah, the moving trucks won’t be here until Friday. Don’t worry, it didn’t come out of the Governor’s budget.”
“That’s not…” She shakes her head. “Jamie, you can’t stay in a hotel for a week.”
“Why not? You did at the summit.”
She’s about to argue with me when Walter appears with our drinks. “Did you need a few more minutes?”
“Um, I think we’re ready,” Aubrey replies, looking at me expectantly. I reply with a nod. “I’d like the watermelon and tomato salad, and the chicken sandwich with extra aioli, please.”
“And for you?”
I double-check the menu before I answer. “We’ll also start with the portobello fries, and I’ll have a Caesar salad… and the bolognese, please.”
“Got it.” He scribbles it on his pad and takes our menus, then helps the table to our right.
