“Yep.”
“And you’re going to the premiere?” he says, looking at me.
I nod and pull out the seat across from him.
“Thank God. I really didn’t want her going by herself. Not with that douchebag around.”
“He probably won’t even talk to me with Grayson there,” Nora replies, looking at the seat beside mine like she’s not sure she wants to take it.
I can’t stand this shit, so I make the decision for her and pull the chair out. She looks surprised, but slides onto it and sets Henry on her lap.
“We need a high chair.” She looks around for our waitress, but everyone seems to be occupied.
“I asked for one.” Jessa tosses a set of crayons toward Nora for Henry to color with. “She should be bringing it.”
“Awesome. Not that I don’t love having you in my lap,” she coos, handing Henry a red crayon.
He slaps it on the table, breaking it in two before putting it to the paper in front of him.
“Here’s that high chair you asked for—ohmigod! You’re…you’re…”
Nora hands Henry to me and smiles up at the starstruck waitress. “I’m Nora.”
“I know who you are. I’m a huge fan. Like, huge, huge, huge fan.”
“Thank you. That means so much to me. I always love meeting fans.”
The waitress, who’s name tag says Allison, bobs her head and smiles stupidly at Nora. “I promise I won’t bug you the rest of the evening, but can I get your autograph?”
“Absolutely.” Nora takes the girl’s order pad and pen and scribbles her name across it.
Allison stares down at it in awe. “Wow. I can’t believe you’re here, and I have your autograph, and now I’m going to take your order. Crap, I have to take your order. I’m so sorry.”
Nora laughs. “It’s okay. I actually haven’t even looked at the menu yet, but I’ll take a Diet Coke.”
“Diet Coke. You got it. Coming right up.”
The poor girl scurries off without getting anyone else’s drink order.
“Sorry, sis,” Nick says. “I talked to the owner when we got here, and he promised the staff would be professional and not make a big deal out of you.”
“It’s fine. She wasn’t un-professional.”
“Does it bother you when fans approach you?” I ask, amazed at how gracefully she handled the excited girl.
“No, what bothers me is when I get mobbed. And not because I get annoyed, but because it makes me anxious. That’s why this is my first time venturing out. I haven’t wanted to go out alone.”
“I’d be more than happy to take you out any time if there’s somewhere you’re wanting to go, or something you want to see,” I say, trying desperately to re-open our lines of communication.
“It’s okay. Jessa promised to take me out,” she says, dismissing my offer.
“Right. Of course.”
“Daddy?”
> “Yes, Emma.”
“I need to go poop.”