Page 73 of Just Ten Seconds

“The opposite. They accept me and everything that comes along with being my friend.” I give him a sideways smile. “Nick’s warming up to you.”

“Well, he hasn’t kicked me or my kid out of his restaurant lately. And you speak highly of him, so he must be a decent guy.”

“He is. And Jackie is the best. We come from completely different backgrounds, but we just get each other. Always have. We stayed close over the years, so it didn’t surprise me when she was the one who helped me out of my slump.” The black napkin on my lap has a crease. I try to smooth it out. “I feel bad that I can’t tell her everything I’m feeling. I worry that she’ll worry. It’s a cycle, but I’m getting better.”

“The meetings must be helping then,” he says knowingly.

I tilt my head at him in question.

“You went again last week. I’m glad.”

I look away in wonder and then turn back to him to ask, “Are you staying away from the meetings because I’m there?”

His hand rubs the back of his head in answer.

“That’s crazy. You should be the one to go.”

“So, you admit you won’t go in if you know I’m there,” he accuses.

I don’t know how he knows, but he has me pegged.

“I didn’t say that.”

He lowers his gaze at me, and I close my eyes to ignore his stare. When I open them, he’s still gazing at me with those midnight blues with small creases at the sides as he gives me a look of sincerity.

I let out a deep breath. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Oh, but it is.” His smile widens into a cocky grin.

My jaw drops. “What are you insinuating?”

“That you like me. Because of that, you want to see how this thing between us unfolds outside of a therapy group. That’s a place for figuring yourself out. This, here, is about figuring us out. Slowly. I understand, and I can wait.” He winks as the waitress comes over with the menus and reads us the specials. He tells her our orders without having to review the menus. “Two spaghettis.”

“Would you like to see the wine list?” she asks, handing Dean the black leather cocktail menu. “We have a delicious pinot noir from a neighboring vineyard.”

Dean looks my way to see if I’m interested. I nod with one shoulder shrug.

“We’ll try it.”

“Fantastic,” she says, taking the menus from us. “And there’s a pianist tonight that starts in a half hour. He takes requests, so if you have a song, you should let him know. Are you celebrating anything special tonight?”

I look down at my jeans and cashmere sweater, thinking this is not special-occasion attire. Dean is in jeans and a crew-neck top, but he looks great in everything, so it doesn’t matter what he wears.

“We are. It’s our first date.”

“Well, good luck to you. I’ll be right out with your wine.” She walks to the back.

I give Dean a stern look. “Our first date?” I repeat his words.

“She would have been disappointed if we’d told her we were celebrating buying my daughter her first bra.”

“She wouldn’t have cared,” I say. “Probably more so than this being a first date.”

“It’s not a date. I know. If this were a first date, what would be different?”

“I’d be wearing a dress,” I state.

“And I would have on dress pants and a button-down. You should see me in a suit. Man, the women can’t keep their hands off of me.”