“Since you don’t like my water, do you want to try my wine?”
“Okay,” he said almost grudgingly and took a sip. “Ugh, you don’t have to drink this. It’s swill.”
“It’s good. Really,” she protested, afraid he’d complain to the waiter.
“It tastes like vinegar. This establishment should be ashamed.” He waved the waiter over.
“Please, Chris, don’t. I like it, really. Don’t do this,” she said.
“It needs to be said. Mediocrity must be pointed out so it can be rectified. We are clearing the way for excellence.”
“Chris, don’t,” she said, a warning in her voice.
“This wine is disgusting. Did you decant it directly from the toilet tank or did you make the mistake of paying for a bottle of this garbage?” he demanded of the waiter, who looked taken aback.
“If you are dissatisfied may we offer you a glass of a different vintage?” the waiter kept his composure.
“Certainly not and I want it removed from our check along with this ridiculous Italian water, which does not say ‘organic’ any where on the label. Your shoddy service and subpar offerings will put you out of business if you don’t—”
“I’ll get the manager. Perhaps you’d like to speak with her,” the waiter said.
Britt stood, threw her napkin down.
“That’s it. You’re rude. You complain about everything and you are stuck up and nasty to the waiter. I’m going to pay my half of the check and I’m leaving. You need to lose my number and learn some manners. And by the way, all water is fucking organic!” She threw some money on the table and stalked away.
Britt paused by the door to the kitchen and tapped the waiter’s arm.
“I’m very sorry about him. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. It’s a lovely restaurant and you were very patient. The only problem here is Chris. I hope neither of us ever has to see him again,” she said, and pressed a twenty into his hand.
Before he could thank her, she was headed for her car, grateful that she had met Chris there and could leave whenever she wanted to. She slipped into the driver’s seat, locked her doors and checked her phone.
“I miss you.” It was from Jack.
All of her self-satisfied adrenaline high from ditching Chris and apologizing to the waiter and finding the courage to dump someone rude came crashing to a sick halt. She could have been home, watching TV and waiting to hear from Jack. She should have been home instead of out on a stupid date when she already had the man she wanted—sort of had him. She regretted it sharply, too sharply to reply to Jack’s text with the obvious and painfully true ‘I miss you too’. She drove home. She washed off all her makeup.
Chapter 6
When her phone rang, she squinted her eyes shut tightly as if to block out the fact that it was Jack’s number flashing on her screen. Gingerly, she picked it up and tapped ‘accept’ on the touchscreen.
“Hello?” she mumbled, trying to sound sleepy.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m just tired I guess,” she said.
“I did what you said, and I listened to these people and apparently their problem is I use too much slang, too much vernacular when they learned proper English. So about half of what I said was going right over their heads, not because they don’t know anything about tech but because they don’t understand how I talk,” he said. “So, you were right. I sent you a present to say thank you. It’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to send me presents!” She said, feeling her face redden into a blush although she sat alone in her apartment.
“You better get used to it because I’m going to like giving you presents. It’s fun. Don’t panic, it’s not jewelry.”
“What do you mean, don’t panic?”
“I mean you freak out very easily for an accountant. I would think of your profession as being quite level-headed but you get upset over any indication that we’re in a relationship.”
“Because we’re not. So any indication that we are is inaccurate,” she protested.
“Let me evaluate that allegation, Britt. Do we talk and text every day?”