Page 38 of Knights Like These
I take the napkins back to the table and sit down, and Lily immediately hands me a crayon and tells me to draw a shark for Luke because Luke wants a shark and she can’t draw sharks and “you’re good at everything, Auntie Syd.”
I draw the shark. I drink my wine. Archer watches me from across the booth with that crease between his brows that means he knows he hit a nerve but can’t figure out which one.
Good. Let him wonder. I’ve been wondering for fifteen years. He can sit with it for one pizza dinner.
Chapter Thirteen
The Date
Sydney
His name is Tanner.
He’s in line behind me at the coffee shop near the community center, and when I turn around with my latte, I accidentally step on his shoe. He’s tall and blond, wearing a button-down that suggests he works somewhere with a dress code but not a strict one. He laughs when I apologize. It’s a good laugh.
“You could at least buy me a muffin to make up for the assault on my footwear.”
I laughed. “You want a muffin?”
“Compromise. We split it.”
That’s how it starts. We end up at a two-top by the window, sharing a blueberry muffin. He asks what I do, and I tell him about the senior center. He laughs at the visual of senior citizens dancing to Flo Rida. By the time my latte is gone, he’s asked for my number, and I’ve given it to him.
He texts me that afternoon.
Tanner:Any chance you’re free Saturday night?
I stare at the message for a while. I’m on the couch. The twins are at preschool. The house is quiet, my laundry is drying, and I can smell the garlic from whatever Archer has started for dinner. I think, I could just not answer this. I could say I’m busy. I couldkeep living in Archer Lockwood’s life and pretend everything is fine until it breaks me.
Or I could go on a date.
Me:I’m free.
I tell Archer that night while we’re cleaning up from dinner. Casually. Like it’s not a big deal, because it’s not. I’m a grown woman, and I can go on a date without it being a whole thing.
“So I have plans Saturday night.”
He pauses with a plate halfway to the dishwasher. “Okay.”
“I met a guy at the coffee shop. We’re getting dinner.”
He sets the plate down slowly, as if it might break if he puts it down wrong. “A guy at the coffee shop.”
“Yeah.”
“You gave a stranger at a coffee shop your number?”
“He’s not a stranger, Archer. His name is Tanner. He works in, um—finance, I think? I didn’t ask for his résumé.”
“You didn’t ask him anything?”
“I asked him things. We had coffee. Shared a muffin. It was a whole conversation.”
He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “Syd, the guy could be a serial killer. You don’t know him.”
“He could also be a nice guy who likes blueberry muffins.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
