Ezra,
Thanks for getting the happy couple to Lilou. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for the party. I’m sure your florist knows exactly what she’s doing. She can just do her thing. If she’s taking it over, I don’t think I need to be involved with that part. As for the wine, I have zero thoughts. I’ll defer to your expertise. Unless you don’t have time. Then we can just make Wyatt do it.
See you Friday.
MM.
Also, in case you’re interested, I’m wearing a blouse tomorrow. And a pencil skirt. But no plans for a coat so far.
I pressed send before I could overthink it. Although in hindsight, I probably could have come up with something way wittier had I given it a few more minutes.
Refusing to dwell on it, I turned off my phone and shut off my lamp. Of course, it took me another hour and a half to fall asleep. And when I finally did, I dreamed of a strong jaw and a better brush that would get the arc of his eyebrows right and the curve of his barely there smile. I dreamed of dark, dark eyes and a weird fascination with my coat.
I woke up regretting my late-night email and wishing I cared about wine, and flowers, and Black Soul Records.
I also woke to a simple, concise, infuriating email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: February 21, 2017 01:19:38 EST
Subject: Re: Friday Night Affirmation
Stubborn woman.
Chapter Four
“You’re officially dead to me.”
Vera collapsed against the wall gasping for breath. “I’m officially dead,” she panted.
I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand and glared at her. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“I can’t feel my butt,” she countered.
“I can feel mine way too much. After what I just went through I’m pretty sure that machine owes me dinner.”
Vera giggled, but it was weak and breathless. We’d walked out of spin class like pros, high-fiving random strangers on the way, and sipping from our water bottles like we could care less about hydration.
But once we’d turned the corner, we’d let our true colors shine. I couldn’t suck down my water fast enough, and someone had crawled inside my body and lit my lungs on fire. Owie.
“Maybe spin class was a bad idea,” Vera relented. “We should have at least started in the beginner’s class.”
My eyes bulged. “That wasn’t the beginner’s class?”
“Does that make it better or worse?”
I glared at her. “Vera, I can’t move my body. My muscles have gone on strike.” Demonstrating my point, I waved my foot around weakly before dropping it back to the ground. “You could have at least warned me that I was facing an expert level class.”
“What would that have mattered?” she laughed.
I lifted my chin stubbornly. “Because then I could have prepared.”
“By getting in shape in less than twelve hours?”
“By running away to Mexico where you couldn’t find me.”
She rolled her eyes, grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the locker room. “Come on, lazy bones. I’ll buy you breakfast off the dollar menu to make up for it.”
Vera’s promise of McDonald’s was the extra burst of energy I needed to survive the walk to the showers. I stood under the hot stream for longer than I should have, and still my motor skills were jerky at best when I emerged and tried valiantly to get dressed. Thank goodness the workout we’d survived was all legs because my makeup could have ended in disaster if my arms were as tired as my trembling thighs.
“Did you even go to sleep last night?” I asked Vera as she leaned forward with an open mouth to apply her mascara.
She moved the wand away from her face so she could yawn. “For a couple hours. I thought opening a food truck was a lot of work. It’s nothing compared to the restaurant.”
“Have you and Killian decided on a name yet?”
She snorted. “Nope. Right now, we’re bouncing between Verian, which is our two names squished together, and The Blue Table, which has no significance whatsoever, but it sounds cool.”
“I like both of them,” I told her. “Verian is clever.”
“Cheesy,” she corrected. “It’s super cheesy. But I don’t mind the sound of it.”
I smiled at my reflection while I applied lip stain. “You know what you should name it, right?”
Turning her head, she looked at me. “What’s that?”
“Salt,” I told her, referring to one of Killian’s very first interactions with her cooking. “Just call it Salt.” Expecting her to laugh with me, I was surprised when she didn’t. “I’m just kidding,” I added quickly.
She slammed her palm against my shoulder like she was high-fiving my clavicle. My poor, abused legs wobbled, but miraculously didn’t give out. “Molly, you’re a freaking genius!”
“Huh?”
“Salt. It’s brilliant. Fucking brilliant! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Are you serious?”
Her head bobbed wildly. “So serious. It’s simple and memorable and so meaningful to us. It’s seriously the best name I’ve ever heard.”
My lips lifted in a proud smile. Having worked in marketing for so long, I knew she was right. Salt sounded cool. It broadcasted like the trendy new restaurant taking the city by storm that it was. Of course, with Killian and Vera at the helm, that was always the restaurant’s destiny, but a stellar name would give it that extra something special that would keep people talking about it.
She had already pulled out her phone and called Killian before I could say another word. “He’s probably sleeping,” she muttered distractedly.
It was only seven-thirty in the morning. Which for them was practically the middle of the night. Killian and Vera were basically nocturnal. They started work when most of us got off, and stayed well into the early morning hours to clean up and shut down.
Currently, they were working to open a gorgeous new space where they would cook side by side, leading the city to new heights of culinary genius. For now, before they officially opened, their lives had somewhat balanced out. But understandably, after so many years working in busy kitchens night after night, neither one of them could really give up the late-night life.
“Salt!” Vera practically shouted into the phone as soon as she heard Killian’s sleep-roughened voice.
I heard him grunt out a confused, “Wha?”
“Salt,” she squealed. “For the restaurant. Let’s call it Salt!”
The next time he spoke, his voice sounded much more alert. Vera began prattling off how it was my idea, but also how it was perfect. She moved to the side of the locker room for some privacy. And some space. She always used her hands to talk. When she was this excited she was bound to give someone a black eye if she wasn’t careful.