My eyebrows said yes, yes it was.
Logan’s eyebrows waggled several times, telling me that while it was hot, and it was, my secret was safe with them.
Archie was oblivious to all of this, already engrossed in a conversation with Leo and Oscar about the Yankees’ spring training and blah blah lips moving.
Settled now, Roxie leaned over. “Chad here is a town councilman, he was the one who brought Natalie’s firm in to help work on the Bailey Falls promotion.”
“Yes, it’s Chad I have to thank every time I have no cell reception or find myself whistling ‘The Farmer in the Dell’ under my breath like some crazy country person,” Nat said, smacking her menu on the table. “What the hell am I ordering?”
“I hear the Zombie Cakes are really good,” Roxie said out of the corner of her mouth.
“I hear the girl who makes Zombie Cakes is a little bit full of herself,” I heard a familiar voice say as a tray full of water glasses was thunked down on the table in front of me. “And how in the world did I get stuck waiting on this table, huh?” I turned to see Trudy, a perpetual love-struck hippie who also happened to be Roxie’s mother. “Why, Clara Morgan, I didn’t know you were in town! Get up here and give me a hug and kiss.”
I stood and was instantly enveloped in her arms, the familiar scent of patchouli mixed with french fries comforting. “Hi, Trudy.”
“How are you? You visiting the girls?”
“Kind of.”
Roxie piped up. “She’s working her magic up at Bryant Mountain House, Ma. She’s helping Archie out.”
“Archie Bryant, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She patted him affectionately on the shoulder, then squeezed the length of his arm. “You need to come in here more often, you’re too thin. You’re getting the pot roast tonight, extra mashed potatoes.” She looked down at me, still pinned under her other arm. “How about you, you got a race coming up that needs carb loading?”
“I don’t, actually, not for a while.”
“Then you get pot roast too.” She peered deep into my eyes, searching. “You look like you need the iron. I’ll put an extra slice on there for you. The rest of you knuckleheads figure out what you want, I’ll be right back. Great to see you, Clara.” She pushed me back into my chair, then suddenly looked at Archie and me like she just realized we were sitting next to each other. “Mm-hmm.”
And with a wave of her pad and pen, she was off, muttering to herself about ginkgo biloba and vitamin D.
“So much for getting our work done,” I murmured to Archie, and he leaned down closer.
“We can always take a drive afterward.”
“Oh really?” I asked. He merely smiled, and bumped me with his elbow. Then we both realized we were very much in public and pulled away from each other, looking up, down, across the room, anywhere but at each other.
Butterflies from an elbow. This was dangerous.
“What was Trudy saying about a race?” Leo asked.
“Clara’s a runner. And a swimmer. Hell, Clara’s an everythinger,” Natalie chirped.
Oscar dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Not a word, Pinup.”
“Bite me, you knew what I meant, though.”
“What kind of races do you do?” Leo asked.
“Endurance races, that kind of thing. I try and do several marathons a year, depending on where I’m working. If I can slip in a triathlon, I make it happen.”
“You’re a badass, aren’t you?” Logan asked, and I shrugged.
“She’s tough,” Roxie replied, and her eyes met mine across the table. She was right. I was. I had to be.
“You ever do one of those mud courses?” Chad asked.
I nodded. “We were just talking about that on the way over here. There’s one coming up soon in Syracuse, looks like a great course.”
“That’s the one I was telling you about!” Logan exclaimed, pounding Chad on the shoulder. “We gotta do it.”
“Oh man, one of those Tough Mudders?” Leo asked, looking at Oscar. “What do you think, Mendoza, can you handle it?”
“Mud?” he asked. “Sure. It’s just wet dirt.”
“Excellent, you in, babe?” Leo asked, swinging an arm around his girl.
“How did I get involved in this? You boys go do that, Natalie and I will watch from the stands.”
“Yeah, I’ll go for hot dogs,” Natalie replied, winking at Oscar.
“We’re in, we’re so in,” Leo said, looking at Archie. “You’re doing it, right?”
I started to speak up, wanting to get him off the hook, but once again he surprised me.
“Sure,” he said with all the confidence of someone who’d just decided something a split second ago, but seemed pretty sure about it. “What the hell.”
Excitement erupted around the table as everyone began congratulating themselves on their general awesomeness or in the case of Roxie and Natalie, an overall feeling of supportive disgust.
I listened to all of this, wondering how a simple night out to talk to Archie about his hotel had become this big friendship ball. Everyone talking over each other, laughing, joking, it was a bit chaotic and almost a little . . . overwhelming? In a good way, but there was a moment when I had to sit back a bit and just breathe, feeling all those personalities banging into each other and rushing over me.
I wasn’t used to all the chatter. I’d seen Hollywood’s glorified version of what a big family dinner was, but I’d never been smack-dab in the middle of it. I listened to the conversations as they zinged around, I laughed along with everyone, but there was a part of me that felt just a bit . . . on the outside. My usual default, but this time I was on the inside, I was the inside. Why did it feel overwhelming, then?
I didn’t feel lonely, never let myself go there. So why, when I was surrounded by my friends and their friends and having a grand time, did I feel somehow a bit hollow on the inside? Can you feel lonely when you’re surrounded by people?
I rubbed at my chest, feeling an ache begin to set in behind my ribs. I was there, I was involved, but only partway. Part of me was hovering outside this, on the edge, unnoticed.
But then Archie did notice me. His eyes caught mine, and the warmth there burned right through me, into exactly those carved-out hollow places.
And when Leo started asking me about different races I’d done before, and Logan was telling me about the time he fell off a ropes course and how it was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him, I couldn’t help but get pulled in, letting myself enjoy the evening for what it was. A night out with friends. And pot roast. And repeatedly accidental-but-very-much-on-purpose elbow bumping.