Page 124 of Graves

“That would be nice.”

It’s just a ride.

What could happen?

I’ve got everything under control.

Luke flags down the waitress and signals that he wants the check. A young woman soon comes over and places a leather folder on the table. Luke opens it and stops her before she can walk away.

“Wait a second,” he says in a stern voice. “There’s a mistake here.”

Memories surge in my head. That tone is burned into my brain.

“There are three sparkling waters listed here. We only had two,” Luke says and pushes the check toward her.

My heart skips a beat. I try to remember how many waters we had, but I can’t. Was it two or three? There’s only one empty bottle on the table.

“I’m sorry,” the young woman says, looking at the check more closely. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Luke answers in a flat voice. “Your colleague probably entered an extra bottle. It’s not your fault. Just correct it, please.” He closes the leather folder and hands it back to her.

All the blood drains from my face as she stands there, confused, holding the check and not knowing what to do. She’s young and probably working here to pay for college. Luke wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t particularly nice either.

“Of course,” she finally says. “I’ll take care of it.”

Wrong! something screams in my head as a sudden flash of heat returns.

Luke raises an eyebrow and pins her with an irritated stare. “Just fix the check. That’s all you need to do.”

“Y-yes, of course,” she answers and returns to the counter.

My heart is still racing. I open my mouth, but I can’t get a word out.

The waitress returns with a new check. Luke reviews it, visibly pleased, then pays in cash and leaves a generous tip. The young woman thanks us and says goodbye.

I probably overreacted.

He wasn’t that unfriendly.

When we leave the restaurant, the fog in my head clears a little, but I still can’t say for sure if we had two or three waters. For the sake of my peace of mind, I push the thought aside and try to focus on the here and now.

Luke’s car is parked right around the corner, so we drive together back to Manhattan, to the West Village.

I’m torn. As much as I enjoyed dinner with Luke, that short moment reminded me exactly why I left him. I feel like a failure who dropped his guard. For a whole year, I’ve counted everything—how many drinks I have, how many glasses I put in the sink, how many letters I take from the mailbox—but Luke somehow managed to make me lose focus.

Though… nothing really happened except the waitress adjusting the check.

Am I reading too much into it?

“You’re so quiet,” Luke notices. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… of course!” I shake off the doubts. “Everything’s fine.”

“Should I drop you off here? Or right in front of the building?”

We’re on the south side of the block, where there’s also an entrance to the courtyard.

“Now that it doesn’t matter anymore and the press already knows?” I joke.