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Everyone was bound to think they were a couple. A man and a woman entering a restaurant together. Oh well. If Quinn could handle Mrs. LaRue, she could handle all of Tulsa.
The heat in her cheeks told her that wasn’t quite true.
As Nick opened the door, the smell of fresh Mexican food hit her like an ocean wave. She stepped in on the red terra cotta floor, her hand clutching her stomach as it rumbled, and gathered her sweater tighter against the cool of the AC. Nick followed her in, finger combing his Hollywood hair, his heather-red tee looking nice against his broad chest.
She could still look, couldn’t she?
A young man greeted them at the hostess stand and led them to a booth near the back of the restaurant. No longer looking to escape, it didn’t bother her. A strange concept after hiding out for so long. Strange for what she’d been through just since starting group.
She slid into the wooden high-backed booth with its blue cushioned seats, setting her purse beside her. Nick sat on the other side, waved away the menu. After the host left, he said, “You picked one swanky place.”
“It may not be as upscale as you’re used to, but the food’s good.”
He crossed his arms on the table, and his silver Longines watch reminded her this “swanky place” closed in an hour. Not having much time might be okay.
Right now, she didn’t feel the need to avoid him, but guys were guys. A handsome man like him never wanted to stay single for long.
This guy though... Perhaps, like her, he didn’t ever intend to remarry. They could be friends without the hurt.
Chips, salsa, and waters were set on their table. She dove in, not looking to impress.
He had good friend qualities. Her parents would be happy, Claire would be ecstatic—and get the wrong idea—and Quinn might even be relieved to have a friend who understood. Call it a triple crown of wins.
“At least share the chips and salsa. I shouldn’t eat them all myself.”
He pulled a chip from the basket. “You’re stepping out on a limb here. Letting me join you for dinner.”
“It is just dinner.” Then the confession. “And my mom threatened to come over every night if I didn’t start getting out more.”
He paused midchew. “I feel so used.”
“Sorry, but you did say you wanted to be friends.”
He wagged a chip. “I see how this game’s played. It’s all right. Paybacks are coming.”
Lord, help me. She huffed. “Okay. Serves me right.” If she was going to use him as a friend, then she’d have to let him do the same. “I’m going to have to run an extra hour to work this off.”
“Another hour? How long do you run?” He popped the chip in his mouth.
“About an hour and a half every day. Well, except for Tuesdays. That’s dinner night with my parents. And now Mondays.”
“That’s a lot of running.”
“Seems to be what I do best.” A miracle she hadn’t run out on him. She looked him up and down and selected another chip from the basket. “How often do you work out?”
“Who says I work out?”
“Your muscles say you work out.”
“My muscles don’t talk.”
“Your muscles scream.”
He flexed, and they both laughed. Maybe he wouldn’t see her blush. “Every day, but Mondays. It started as a way to vent my anger. Now it’s something to do.”
“You’re not angry anymore?” She dipped a chip in the salsa.
He took a breath like he was going to say something, then folded his arms back on the table. “I’d be lying if I said no. But I do try to see the good in all of it, try to find the purpose.”
Mirroring his posture, Quinn braced on her elbows, their conversation going the way of a therapy session. “You think there’s a purpose, a reason we’ve had to go through something so horrible?”
As his brows furrowed, he seemed to be choosing his words. “Lauren was going to die. I had to endure something horrible, but she had a husband who loved her, who was able to be strong for her. Not having that would’ve been the tragedy.”
“So death isn’t the tragedy?”
He shook his head. “I’m not saying that, but the worse tragedy would be not fulfilling the role God gave you.” He sniffed. “Purpose is a difficult thing to wrap your brain around.”
Trying to make sense of his words, Quinn stared at the tall seatback behind him, her vision blurring, the low chatter of the other patrons dimming. She didn’t want to ask about the terrible thing he’d suffered or the role he thought God needed him to play in it. If there was anything good about Brendan’s death, it would be a long while before she’d see it. And she wasn’t ready to believe that forever hadn’t been their purpose.
“Quinn?”
Her gaze shot back to him.
“I’m not discounting the pain or the suffering or the anger or...” He cleared his throat. “But finding the good things helped me out of a tough situation.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
The waitress came a tad too late. How could she eat now? “Chips and salsa will be enough, thank you.”
“No.” He glanced down at her menu. “She’ll have a half order of the supreme nachos.” He gave her the you’re-going-to-eat-it-and-like-it look.
She tilted her head to the side, his cockiness reviving her. “Fine.” She smiled at the waitress. “I’ll have a half order of the regular nachos, please.”
The young girl’s messy bun threatened to topple as her gaze switched between them. “Cute. I’ll have that right out.”
Nick leaned forward. “You just have to be difficult.”
Quinn bent forward as well. “It’s what I do.”
Their faces close, she swallowed hard and scooted back against her seat. How did that get weird so fast?
Nick settled back as well, creating a friendlier atmosphere, and laced his fingers in his lap, the moment not seeming to bother him at all. “So do you listen to music?”
“Not really, not anymore. Just relaxing music when I’m trying to get rid of my day. You know, nothing with lyrics.”
He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened his music app. “You mean like this?”
A familiar tune of soft piano music, curled around an accompaniment of cello, drowned out the mariachi guitar playing through the restaurant.
“You listen to piano music?”
“Well, I, like you, had a hard time relaxing, so yeah. I’m not so different from you, Madam Q.”
The name he’d given her warmed her cheeks. “I don’t guess you are.”
His cheeks seemed to color as well as he stopped the music and set his phone aside, a sheepish look coming over his face. “So... paybacks.”
She pushed her hands under her thighs and sucked in a breath. “Here we go.”
“Ready?”
“Bring it on.”
“Our firm designed the renovations of the Performing Arts Center and received multiple tickets to Saturday night’s performance of the Tulsa Symphony. My dad and I are going, my sister and her husband. I thought you might want to go with us.”
“Oh!” A night out with his family. What could be better? With her breath held and her heart hanging on a cliff, she could only stare.
His blue eyes gleamed, his wide smile crinkling up their corners. “I was just kidding about the paybacks. If you don’t want to go, it’s fine. It would get you out of the house, though. Satisfy the mom.”
She exhaled and her shoulders drooped. “There is that. Um... sure. We’ve had coffee, dinner, why not a symphony?”
Why not a symphony? Because maybe wearing a little black dress to a fancy affair was going too far. This no-obligation thing was turning out to be a little obligatory. Her mind stopped.
Really, Quinn? You could have said no.
Her cheeks had to be red by now. “Just a symphony... no obligations.”
He winked his cute wink. “Now you’re starting to get the hang of this.”
Her nachos came, which Nick helped her eat, and they relaxed like old friends.
After digging into her soul, she couldn’t find a reason to say no. Nick was turning out to be a great friend. And it couldn’t hurt to have a shoulder to blubber on. She’d need one before too long.
Her parents would be thrilled. Claire would want to be a fly on the wall. And Quinn? She was going to the symphony with her new friend and his family.
A reentering of society. Ready or not.
