“Friends?”
His one word question doesn’t give me enough to read whether he thinks it’s a good or bad thing.
“Yeah. I mean even though things were super-fast with us. I think on some level we connected as friends initially. Isn’t that the basis of a good relationship?”
Another pause. I think I’ve blown my shot when he finally speaks.
“When would this blind date occur?”
I’m ready with an answer. “Whenever you’re available.”
This time the silence between us isn’t so unbearable. He’s hopefully checking his schedule and not thinking of a way to blow me off.
“I work late tonight. Then I start morning rotations tomorrow. Wednesday night would work because I don’t have office appointments until the afternoon on Thursday.”
“That works. I don’t get off until six. So I could be in Baltimore by eight.” I would have to go home to shower and change first.
“You work on Thursday. Why don’t I come to you?”
I’m feeling more confident, so I let the short laugh which sounds halfway like a giggle come out. “Now that’s not how dates work. I’m supposed to pick you up.”
He doesn’t join in my laughter.
“There’s nothing typical about you and me, Cate.” His serious voice kills the smile from my face. “Just tell me where to meet you.”
Why do I have the feeling that what I hope will be a rekindling will ultimately turn out to be a goodbye? Because shouldn’t he be asking to pick me up? I glance at the clock on my computer.
“Give me until noon to make a reservation, and then I’ll text you the location.”
“Sounds good. I have to go. Duty calls.”
“Sure,” I say weakly.
And he hangs up.
I want to call Jenna, but I know what she’ll say. She’s said it a thousand times already and it might be too late for everything. At least I’ll get the chance to ask him about the woman he was kissing at the hospital and the date with Désirée. We hadn’t talked about commitment. So do I really have a reason to be mad, especially when I’ve been the hot and cold one?
That’s probably why he agreed to meet me. He wants to tell me he’s seeing other people and I should too.
I make a reservation anyway at McCormick & Schmick's. It covers the gamut from steaks to seafood, so I text Andy the place and a time of six-thirty. I don’t end up going to Ted’s office that day. Instead, I go there bright and early the next day where Jeff is waiting for me.
“Traitor,” he spits.
I stop in my tracks. “What did I do?”
“I saw the pictures of you two. You went out with him after all my warnings.”
I’ve heard Ted’s side of things. It’s time I hear Jeff’s. “Is your hatred for him over a woman?”
He pauses. “He told you?”
“Not much. He just said it always comes down to a woman and she was more interested in him.”
He huffs, “Yes, there was a woman. But that’s not the whole story.”
“It never is.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Look, I like you, Jeff. But your warnings were for naught. Ted was a perfect gentleman the entire time we were out. He didn’t do or try anything. You have nothing to worry about. We’re just friends.”
“He’s never just friends,” and he wiggles his fingers, “with a woman,” he mutters before heading to his desk.
I don’t want to fight, so I don’t argue. I sit and get to work. Ted drops by.
“Cate, have you thought about France?”
I glance around worried about the thin walls.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
He takes it well. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it.”
The calm way he walks away is unnerving, but I let it go.
By Wednesday, a case of the anxieties hits. I work out of my office and slip out early, only taking half a lunch break. I head home to freshen up and change into a snug scoop neck red sweater, slim black pants, and date heels, or what Jenna refers to as fuck-me heels. I take a cab the few blocks to the restaurant because there is no way I could have walked and survived. The weather is still gloomy and ice patches still litter the sidewalks. The shoes I wear aren’t exactly made for walking.
A valet opens my cab door and helps me out. That’s what you get when dinner will run in the low hundreds if not more. Andy has already arrived and the hostess escorts me to our table. He’s up and helping me out of my coat. His hands are warm and they burn through the fabric of my sweater with his accidental touches. I shiver and miss his touch when it’s gone.
“Beautiful as always,” he says with my back to him.
I turn to face him because I hope our connection is still there. Only he’s turned to hang my coat on the hook outside our booth. I slide in and wait for him to sit.
By the time he does, the waiter is there rattling off the daily specials before excusing himself to give us time to make our selections.
Andy hides behind his menu. I pick mine up and decide what to order.