The Carrie Diaries (The Carrie Diaries 1)

I nod.

“My name’s Eileen,” she says. “I’d love to have a bag like that with my name on it.”

She picks up two menus and holds them aloft as she leads us to a table for two in front of the fireplace. “Most romantic table in the house,” she whispers as she hands over the menus. “Have fun, kids.”

“Oh, we will,” Sebastian says, unfolding his napkin with a snap.

I hold up the bag. “You like?”

“It’s a purse, Carrie,” he says.

“This, Sebastian, is no mere purse. And you shouldn’t call a handbag a purse. A purse was what people used to carry coins in the sixteen hundreds. They used to hide their purse inside their clothes to foil robbers. A bag, on the other hand, is meant to be seen. And this isn’t any old bag. It was my mother’s….” I trail off. He’s clearly not interested in the provenance of my bag. Hmph. Men, I think, opening my menu.

“I like who’s carrying it, though,” he says.

“Thank you.” I’m still a little annoyed with him.

“What would you like?”

I guess we’re supposed to be all formal, now that we’re at a fancy restaurant.

“Haven’t decided.”

“Waiter?” he says. “Can we have two martinis please? With olives instead of a twist.” He leans toward me. “They have the best martinis here.”

“I’d like a Singapore Sling.”

“Carrie,” he says. “You can’t have a Singapore Sling.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a martini place. And a Singapore Sling is juvenile.” He glances at me over the top of the menu. “And speaking of juvenile, what’s wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Good. Then try to act normal.”

I open my menu and frown.

“The lamb chops are excellent. And so is the French onion soup. It was my favorite thing to eat in France.” He looks up and smiles. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“Thanks,” I say, with slight sarcasm. I immediately apologize. “Sorry.” What is wrong with me? Why am I in such a bad mood? I’m never in a bad mood with Sebastian.

“So,” he says, taking my hand. “How was your week?”

“Terrible,” I say as the waiter arrives with our martinis.

“Cheers,” he says. “To terrible weeks.”

I take a sip of my drink and carefully put it down. “Honestly, Sebastian. This week was pretty bad.”

“Because of me?”

“No. Not because of you. I mean, not directly. It’s just that Donna LaDonna hates me—”

“Carrie,” he says. “If you can’t handle the controversy, you shouldn’t see me.”

“I can handle it—”