I gave her an awkward little wave, dipping down so that I dropped into her line of sight.
“Hey,” I said lamely. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I mentally kicked myself. Could I be any smoother?
“Oh!” she gasped, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her cardigan. She giggled nervously, forcing a smile onto her lips. It wasn’t believable in the slightest. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Grocery shopping,” I explained, holding up my tote bag as proof. “Are you… Are you okay?”
All things considered, it was a stupid question, but I still felt inclined to ask.
“Oh, yes,” she mumbled, wiping at her eyes. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”
I raised a quizzical brow at her. I didn’t believe her for a second. “You’re crying in the middle of a farmer’s market,” I said slowly, tone bordering on teasing. “I have a feeling you’re lying.”
The look Daliah gave me made me want to tear my heart in two. She looked miserable. I didn’t know if I could stand to see her like this for another second.
“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I’m going to go home.”
“Come grab lunch with me,” I blurted out without a second thought.
“What?”
“I know this great diner a couple blocks from here. Do you want to have lunch with me?”
Daliah nibbled on her lower lip and mulled the offer over. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the shape of her mouth, hypnotized and entirely out of control.
“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll admit I could really use some company right now.”
I held out my elbow to act as a guide. She slipped her arm easily into mine, like a missing piece of a puzzle.
“Right this way,” I said courteously, earning a small smile from her.
“Why, Edgar the Third,” she sarcastically cooed, “who knew you were such a gentleman?”
8
Daliah
I twiddled my thumbs beneath the table surface. It wasn’t that I was bored. Far from it, in fact. My heart hadn’t stopped racing since I ran into Edgar at the farmer’s market. It was just that I was feeling super awkward sitting across from him at this fancy restaurant he’d taken me. Everything on the menu looked expensive. After receiving the terrible news that I’d been outbid by another artist for gallery space, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to start spending money I didn’t have.
The restaurant was admittedly very beautiful. They had a rustic vibe going on, with copper utensils and dish sets, along with a bar that looked to be made out of refurbished wood. Behind the bartender were several glass shelves full of various liquor bottles, highlighted by a string of fairy lights wrapped about the edges. The restaurant itself was rather busy, with all but a few tables full of hungry patrons. Busy waitstaff and bussers moved about with purpose, delivering food, taking orders, dropping of drinks, and clearing and setting tables for their next guests. The kitchen was hidden away in the back, but I could hear the chefs on the other side of the double swinging doors barking orders at one another as they attempted to get the lunch rush done and over with.
I felt underdressed for a place like this. This seemed to be a place that catered mostly to business men and women. The duo sitting in the table next to us were dressed elegantly, neatly. The woman at the table was in a beautiful red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and the man she had as her lunch date wore a light grey suit and tie. I cast my eyes down to my lap and nervously picked at the fraying threads upon my right knee. There was no way I could afford to dress to come to a place like this, let alone eat here.
“Lunch is my treat,” said Edgar, as though he were reading my mind.
“Oh, no,” I stuttered. “That’s alright. You don’t need to–”
“I insist,” he replied casually with a quick wave of his hand. “Consider this a thank you for the treats you left me.”
I sat a little straighter in my chair. “I-I didn’t see anything,” I rushed, tripping over my own words. “I swear.”
Edgar looked at me with a confused glint in his eye. “What do you mean?”
My cheeks and the tips of my ears warmed immediately at the memory of Edgar fresh out of the shower. “N-nothing.”
“My door was open,” he realized quietly to himself.
“I promise I knocked first. The door opened by itself. I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy or anything.”
“To be honest, I thought a draft blew it open,” he hummed, a devilish grin upon his lips.
I grimaced. “I know this makes me come across as super creepy, I’m sorry. I swear I left the moment I saw you step out of the bathroom and–”
“You saw me?”
My heart beat so quickly I thought that it was about to burst. I couldn’t hear anything over the rapid rush of blood through my ears. My tongue felt oddly heavy in my mouth, and my stomach had lodged itself in my throat. With just three words, Edgar had managed to turn me into an unmitigated disaster of a bumbling mess.