“We never did what the doc told us to do.”
“What?” My mind went through everything that Dr. Roth had been telling us to do… We’d been taking folic acid. We’d signed Lenny up for a prenatal yoga class. What had I missed?
“We never had dinner together…just us.” When she said those words, it clicked. My mind rewound the past months, to the beginning, to our couple’s counselor.
“Without the past as an uninvited guest,” I said.
“Without my illness barging in and demanding dessert,” Lenny continued.
We never just had dinner.
Peering at Lenny over my menu I asked, “Want french fries?”
“Yes, but…”
“What?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s the healthiest thing to eat.”
“My god, is Lennox Moore refusing french fries? I think hell has frozen over.”
Lenny scrunched up her face. “Shut up, I’m trying to eat healthy. The doctor gave me a list of things I can’t eat.”
“Are fries on there?” I knew the answer already, because I’d memorized the list as well: soft cheeses, certain meats, eggs, fish, caffeine, and, of course, alcohol. When she didn’t respond, I pressed. “Lenny, you’ve got a shit ton of things you really can’t eat, so eat a few fries.”
“All right then. I’ll get french fries, but a salad to even it out.”
When the waitress came I ordered french fries and two salads.
“You’re not getting steak? My god, I think hell has frozen over,” she mocked.
I grinned. “Whatever you’re not eating, I’m not eating.”
“Oh well…” She trailed off. “That’s actually pretty sweet.”
“I’m known for my sweetness.”
“Ha, okay, well you can think that.” A breeze came, blowing away our napkins. Lenny stood and bent over to grab hers. At the same time, another gust of wind came and blew up her skirt. I got a nice, very brief view of her pink slit. I shifted, once again graced with a massive hard on in public.
I didn’t even have a fucking napkin to hide it, either.
Lenny sat back down, napkin in her lap. She smiled at me, taking a sip of her water. A second later her smile fell.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to pee.” She pushed away from the table. At my expression she added, “What? I’m pregnant.” I watched her walk away, then threw my napkin on the table and followed after. On the way I requested a bowl of bread. I waited for her outside the bathroom, leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded.
“Oh, fuck!” She jumped back. “You scared me.”
I kicked off the wall. “I know you’re not wearing anything under that skirt.”
“Why do you—oh.” Lenny shook her head and tried to brush past me. “No way, I’m not doing this here.” Gently, I caught her by the elbow.
“Are you wet?” Lenny shivered at the question I whispered in her ear. Her brow was determined, yet she licked her lips and her chest rose and fell. I’d won. Still, she asked,
“Can we have one restaurant? Just one where I can show my face?” She was, of course, alluding to the restaurant where we’d gone on our first date. And maybe a few others we’d ruined along the years as well.
“Come here.” I tugged her out and around back. The spot was halfway secluded, no patrons would find us. Only the ocean could see, and perhaps a busboy on a break.