“The reservation was for seven,” Max begins before he pauses. “It’s almost seven fifteen. Tiff said Dale’s early to everything, so he’s probably already seated waiting for you.”
I set off again toward the restaurant. “He can’t fault me for being late, Max. An hour ago I didn’t even know he existed.”
“What are you wearing?” He bounces back to the first thing he asked when I called him.
“Why does that matter?” I ask as I round the corner.
“Isabella Calvetti.” My name comes out like a warning. “I’m trying to find you a husband. Work with me here.”
“A husband?” I laugh. “I’m twenty-four-years-old. I’m not looking for a life partner.”
“I know, I know,” he says, his voice edged with fake exasperation. “You’re looking for a good time.”
I hang my head. “I need to go. I’m almost there.”
“The outfit, Bella,” he presses. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
I look down. “The black heels you gave me for my birthday last year…”
“Killer, so fucking killer,” he says in a rush. “Go on.”
“That short sleeve white sweater I bought last month.”
“Your boobs are perky melons in that thing.”
“Creepy as fuck, again, Max.”
“Tell me you’re not wearing your grandma’s pants.”
“My grandma sometimes wears black dress pants, and I sometimes wear black dress pants. It’s a coincidence.” I stop just short of the entrance to Atlas 22, one of the best seafood restaurants in the city. “I’m wearing my black leather skirt if you must know.”
“Shit.” I hear the smile in his tone. “The one that makes your ass look like a million bucks?”
I glance at my reflection in one of the panes of glass with the Atlas 22 logo etched on them. “As much as I appreciate the compliment, I need to go.”
“Hair and makeup?”
I take a step closer to the glass and study myself. “My hair is just past my shoulders and dark brown, and yes, I wear makeup.”
“You’re so not funny,” he drawls. “You know how to answer the question.”
I bite back a laugh. “My hair is on point. That conditioner you recommended works like a charm. The curls are loose, and my makeup is at least an eight out of ten.”
“You’re ready to knock Dale’s pants off.”
“No,” I answer with a smile. “I’m ready to see if his pants are worth knocking off. I need to go inside and meet him.”
“Remember that he’s Tiffany’s friend’s cousin and he’s visiting from Philly.”
“Cousin from Philly,” I repeat back. “I’ve got it.”
I peer through the windows, but the place is packed. I can’t see past the bar crowd to the dining area.
“Call me after you’ve had your way with him.”
“You mean after he’s bought me dessert?”
“Thanks again for doing this.” His voice softens. “Tiffany’s stuck at work, so you’re doing her a huge favor by filling her seat at dinner.”