Page 105 of Wish You Would

“Oh, my god,” Anya shot back, distinctly not whispering. “Why do you always jump to crime?”

“Why don’t you?” Parker replied, and I knew she was primly smoothing her dress, or straightening her cardigan, as she said it.

Anya didn’t dignify that with a response. I could barely hear their footsteps over the pounding of my heart. Gripping the booth tighter, I straightened. I would not run, I told myself. Even though the bathroom was a handful of steps behind me, I would not hide, either.

Fuck, I wanted to hide.

“If I get murdered because you really wanted country fried steak and a milkshake for dinner, I swear I’m going to haunt you,” Parker was saying as they approached. “I’m going to haunt you so bad. I’ll haunt you so bad, you—”

Her spiel ended as they came around the corner to find me standing there. Parker froze, looking from me to Anya, who stood right behind her, then to the table, with its stupid, over-the-top candles. My heart leapt when her eyes found me again. God, she looked beautiful, the pink roses on her dress mirroring the flush in her cheeks, her cornflower eyes fixed on mine. My fingers itched to trace over every hollow and curve of her face, to make sure she was real. That she was here. That I was not hallucinating. I gripped the booth tighter and forced myself to stay put.

“Well, what do you know?” Anya crashed through the moment like a boom of thunder on a cloudless day. “Turns out, I want pizza for dinner instead.”

Parker tore her gaze from mine and whirled on her heel, her sneaker squeaking against the floor. “Oh, okay. What were you thinking? Take out? Or that fancy place on West—”

“Oh, no.” Anya turned her back around to face me. “I know how much you were looking forward to your pancakes.”

“Anya,” Parker said, turning around again. She grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her a few steps away.

It took everything in me to stay put, to not surge forward and beg her to stay, to hear me out. Instead, I waited while she conferred with her sister in whispers. Furious-sounding whispers. I fixed my eyes on the flickering candles and sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening. Please, I thought. Please don’t let her go.

Someone was listening, because when I looked up, there she was, the soft light painting her in shades of gold. I blinked, slow and deliberate, just in case she was an illusion. A mirage. But when I opened my eyes, she was still there.

Relief pushed a breath from my lungs, nerves prevented me from inhaling another. “H-hey,” I managed, sounding like I’d run a marathon. “Fancy meeting you here.”

That, at least, earned a smile. Which allowed my lungs to ease enough to inhale. Forcing myself to uproot from the floor, I gestured to her side of the booth. “Please, sit. Our food should be out soon.”

Frowning, Parker looked around the empty restaurant. “So, it is open?” she asked as she slid into the booth.

“Yeah. Well, kind of.” I sat, too. “Just for us.” At her confused look, I went on. “Sometimes, it pays to have a friend who can rent out an entire restaurant for you, so that you can grovel in peace.”

Her eyes found mine over the flickering candles, gaze searching. I waited, hands twisting in my lap, for her to speak. Whether she would hear me out or leave me sitting here alone, with these stupid candles and way too much breakfast food, I didn’t know. But I hoped it was the first one.

Clearing her throat, she straightened in her seat. “There’ll be pancakes?”

I nodded, checking the spark of hope in my chest before it prematurely flared to life. “And bacon.”

Narrowing her eyes, she seemed to be weighing her love of breakfast food against sharing said breakfast food with the woman who was stupid enough to let her walk away. Just when I thought she was going to get up and leave, she nodded. “Okay.”

The air whooshed from me. “Okay.” I nodded, too. “Okay, good. That’s good.”

“But no talking till the food arrives.” She settled into her seat and draped her napkin over her lap. “I skipped lunch today, and I’m verging on hangry.”

Nodding again, I mirrored her position and cast a glance toward the kitchen. “Should be any minute now. Any…minute. Any damn minute. Any—” Abruptly, I stood. “You know what? I’m gonna go see how things are goi—”

“Gigi.”

Her soft voice wrapping around my name brought me back to earth. I turned to find her watching me, lips tilted in amusement. When she knew she had my attention, she said simply, “Sit.”

I sat.

She reached across the table and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh.”

I shh’d.

About a thousand minutes later, our food arrived. I thanked the cook-turned-waiter for the night, and made a mental note to tell Luke to tip him extra because I couldn’t remember his name. Then, I waited with painstaking patience while Parker buttered her pancakes and drizzled syrup over them. She cut a perfect triangle from the stack and lifted it to her lips. I watched as she chewed, eyes drifting closed with happiness, and I tried to recall everything I’d planned to say.

My own pancakes remained untouched as Parker ate. The only sounds in the empty restaurant were the clink of silverware and the happy little sounds she made with each bite. Finally, she dragged her last bite through the syrup on her plate and ate it. Putting down her fork, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and shook her hair away from her face.

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