Page 114 of Come Apart
Chapter Twenty-One
The air outside is warm and dry. It's typical Southern California summer air, but something about it feels different today. It's heavy somehow.
I wait outside a fancy Italian restaurant on the other side of the marina.
It was Samantha's suggestion. She always wants the finer things. That's what she said when I asked her where she wanted to meet. "Someplace nice."
She should get it tattooed on her forehead. Someplace nice.
I swear, every time I've ever asked her where she wanted to go, she's said "someplace nice."
I wish she could get over her obsession with appearances. If she wasn't so determined to convince everyone she was strong, she might have gotten help sooner.
She arrives early. In her BMW. She's the picture of the educated, put-together lawyer—sheath dress, designer purse, black pumps, delicate jewelry. I wish I could say this isn't the Samantha I fell in love with, that I loved some earlier, less appearances-obsessed version of her. But she was like this back in law school. Even on the weekends it was designer jeans and designer shoes and eating at the nicest restaurants.
She hugs me hello. I could swear she lingers for a moment too long.
"Alyssa here yet?" Samantha asks.
"She's coming straight from a meeting."
Samantha nods. She motions to the host stand inside. "Let's get a table. We can order a bottle of wine while we wait."
"Sure." There's no sense in trying to talk Samantha out of drinking wine. The hostess leads us to a table by the window. It's overlooking a busy street, but the linen curtains block most of the view.
There's something so fake about this place. It has brick walls and soft lights, but it's manufactured. It's owned by a huge chain and its pasta sauce comes out of Costco jars, not from secret family recipes.
We take our seats. Samantha is giddy. Her first time back at some place nice, no doubt. She folds her hands together, practically sighing over the fake candle on the dark red tablecloth.
A dark red, no doubt, to hide the marinara stains.
"Luke?" Her voice is soft, but it's a demand for attention.
"Yeah?"
I peel my eyes away from the tablecloth.
"Is everything okay?" It sounds sincere.
"Yeah. Fine."
She mumbles something. "I'm sure Alyssa is just running late. It's not like she'd ditch this dinner."
I take a deep breath and offer her my best hey-this-is-just-business smile. "Of course not."
Samantha sighs. "She sounds very nice."
"She is."
She folds her napkin in her lap. "I had another job interview today. They seemed receptive, but there are a few details to iron out."
"I thought you were going back to Edward's firm."
She shakes her head. "There's so much gossip. Everyone thinks..."
I shake my head. This isn't the time. Hell, it's never going to be the time.
I just decide to ignore the awkward pause there.
