Page 8 of Changed Plan

“Why would that offend me?”

“Because you’re a vegan?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your shoes are.”

“Right. But I bought them because I liked the shoe, not just because they’re made of vegan leather. They look good, they’re comfortable, and they’re practical. If a woman spilled coffee on them in an airport, I could just wipe them off, and no one would ever know.”

“Oh, sure. What are the odds of that happening?”

Why is he looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?

A server brings water to the table and asks if we’d like to start with an appetizer. As if we’d rehearsed it, we say in unison, “The calamari.”

We stare at each other, too surprised to do anything else for a moment.

“Would that be one or two orders?” the server asks.

Neither of us answers, obviously to avoid a second synchronized response. But also, we didn’t discuss sharing an appetizer. This isn’t a date. We’re just two strangers, sharing a table in a crowded airport.

It’s not like I’ll eat an entire order by myself, especially not if I’m having the steak, and this poor server has other tables to take care of. He can’t just stand here, waiting on us to respond all night, so I break the silence. “Just one.”

“Are you ready to order entrees as well?”

I look to Zane to see if he’s ready. He nods, but doesn’t state his order. Oh, I see. He’s waiting on me to go first. I know it’s supposed to be the gentlemanly thing to do, but I’ve met plenty of guys who put up a gentlemanly front, but were assholes to their core, so I’m not impressed by it.

Since the server didn’t ask for our drink orders at all, I start there. “I’ll have a glass of Montepulciano. The filet, medium. And a small Cesar salad.”

“And you, sir?” He isn’t writing anything down. I hate when they don’t write it down.

“The same.” Zane hands over his menu. “Go ahead and make that wine a bottle.”

I wait for the server to walk away before I ask, “What was that?”

“What?”

“Why did you order the exact same things?”

“Because those were exactly the things I wanted.”

“That’s weird.”

“Not really. Your order wasn’t unique, by any means.” He smiles again. “Plus, he wasn’t writing anything down. I never trust they’ll get my order right if they don’t write it down.”

“Because they never do. Why can’t they just write it down?”

“I don’t know, but I bet I increased our odds of getting what we ordered.”

“Time will tell.”

“Think positive thoughts.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” I dig my phone out of my purse because I just had a thought, and I probably need to act on it right now.

“Thinking positively now might make today better.”

“What exactly is there to be positive about? The fact that I got fired this morning? That I’m stuck in an airport? Or that I just found out every Minute Suite is booked for the next twelve hours, so I either get to stay awake all night or try to sleep sitting up?”

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