Page 41 of Houston, We Have a Problem
While I hope everything is okay, she leaves at the perfect time for me to order our food without her finding out about everything else I’m buying today.
“Did anyone fight you on it?” I ask Little Henry, handing him my credit card.
He rolls his eyes as he processes the enormous bill. Everyone thinks Little Henry gives them all their food for free, and I’d like to keep it that way, even if he doesn’t like it. Everyone gives him all the credit because I force him to keep his mouth shut about me paying for it. “They all did. As usual. They might stop coming if you keep insisting on buying everyone’s meals, Briggs.” To anyone who doesn’t know the gruff and burly fry cook, they might think he’s worried about losing customers. But I know better. Chad used to take us here when we were kids, when Little Henry was still under Big Henry’s wing. He’s always been a big softy, just like his dad. He’s worried about his customers being mad at him.
“They’ll keep coming,” I say. I know how much it hurts to accept help from someone better off, but I also know how hard it is to live paycheck to paycheck, like most of my team’s parents do. They can pretend they would rather pay for their own food, but when some of these families have multiple kids, Henry’s is a splurge, however small, they can’t always afford.
“You sure you want the pickle?” Little Henry asks as he hands my card back. “I thought you hated pickles.”
I grin. “I do. Yes, I want the pickle.”
Grunting, he looks past me to the door. Darcy is just on the other side of the glass, pacing a little as she talks on the phone. “I’m surprised you actually brought one.”
I have never brought a girlfriend to Big Henry’s, or even to a game. Neither have I talked to Little Henry about my dating life, but he’s not so old that he doesn’t know how the internet works.
There’s no holding back my grin when I turn back to Little Henry. “She’s different.”
He smiles. “For your sake, I hope so.”
I could ask what he means by that, but I probably know the answer. Historically, I haven’t made the best dating choices, and none of those women were people I could have settled down with. For a while, that was the point, but now…
By the time Darcy comes back in, most of the boys have gotten their food so the noise levels have dimmed to a dull roar. I managed to coax some boys into sitting with their friends so I could take their table, and it has taken everything in me not to nervously eat all the fries before she can decide if she’d rather have those or onion rings. I don’t know why I would be nervous about a phone call, but everything with Darcy feels so temporary. What if her job pulls her away from Sun City before I’m ready to let her go?
What if I’m never ready?
“Everything okay?” I ask as she slides into the booth opposite me. I don’t know why I thought she would sit on the same side as me, but I’m disappointed irregardless. Er, regardless.
She sighs. “Fine. There’s a big project my boss wants me to work on the day before Halloween.”
My heart sinks. I was toying with the idea of asking her to be my date to a gala I’m going to that night, but I guess that’s out. Probably for the best, considering I likely wouldn’t recover from seeing her in formal wear. I can’t picture Darcy in a dress, so I wonder if she would have even said yes if I’d asked.
“Hopefully it’s nothing too boring,” I say.
Her smile returns as she looks at me, bringing with it a bit of sunshine into my soul. I’ll have other chances to ask her out. It’s fine. “This one might actually get a little interesting. But we’ll have to see.”
“I think I’d rather do data control than go to the party I’m obligated to attend that night.”
“A party? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It does when you realize it’s a charity function and I’m only there to draw a bigger crowd.” I hold up my hand, following the words of an invisible marquee as I announce, “Come see the famous pitcher who almost lost Game Six of the World Series when he pitched a home run in the eighth inning.”
She snorts. “First of all, that would be terrible advertising. Second of all, are you really that famous? You don’t act famous. And I thought home runs were a good thing.”
Does she have any idea how refreshing it is to have someone not only not care that I’m moderately well-known in the world of sports but also not even have a clue what that means? If she likes me—jury’s still out on that—it’s because ofme. That’s something I have to hold on to as long as I can.
“Home runs are good unless it’s the other team getting them,” I say with a grin. “Fries or onion rings?”
She looks at my offerings and then picks up one of each, taking a bite with the seriousness of someone judging an expensive wine. I could watch her silently debate with herself all day. “Onion rings,” she decides, pulling the bag closer to her side of the table. “Unless you wanted them?”
“Nope. I don’t like onion rings any more than I like pickles.”
“Then why did you offer me the fries?”
Because I care more about your happiness than I do mine. But that would be creepy, so I don’t actually say that. Instead, I peek inside my burger and make a face of disgust. “Speaking of pickles… Looks like I ended up with one. Do you want it?”
Her eyes literally sparkle. Well, not literally, but close enough. As she reaches over and pulls the massive pickle off my burger with a wide grin, I can’t help but match her smile with one of my own. I’m generally a happy guy, but I feel like I smile more with Darcy than I ever have before.
“See what I mean?” she says brightly. “We’re a match made in heaven.”
