Page 46 of Mr. Picture Perfect
“Easy? Nadine …”
“This whole thing just sort of fell together in the past forty-eight hours or so. I needed some men in a pinch. I already had you and Cole in mind, and it just so happened I ran into Trey at church yesterday morning, and he was tellin’ me about the Myers’ whole situation, how that poor Anthony’s been havin’ nothin’ but stroke after stroke of bad luck. Couldn’t make it in vet school. Cost his parents so much money and time. Then decided to enlist, but got injured in boot camp and sent right home. Then their dog died.” She lets out a sigh and stabs a buttered broccoli floret with her fork. “Trey and I think this just might be the kind of thing a boy like Anthony needs to get back on his feet.”
Dean shakes his head. “I’m not sure I agree, Nadine.”
“Look, I’m not bein’obtusehere, I know just as well as any that Anthony can be … a bit much. But it’s been my philosophy that everyone deserves a second chance, and it hasneversteered me wrong. By the way, aren’t these broccolis to die for?” She stabs another one and brings it to her lips. “I think it’s the garlic butter or somethin’. De-lish.”
Another bite of steak finds its way to my lips, then doesn’t quite make it past, as I continue to stare at Cole and obsess, trying to figure him out, trying to hear the words he said to me yesterday all over again. I’m determined to analyze them until they make sense to me. Until I can understand what he sees.
What he feels.
I press the bite of meat to my lips as I stare at him, frustrated.
“Didn’t he get into a fistfight with your son?” asks Dean.
Nadine scrunches up her face. “Y’mean that tiny little nothin’ tiff at the movie theater? With my sweet Jimmy? That was ages ago, Dean, nearly three or four summers ago. Goodness, I cannot believe you still remember that.”
“I remember everything,” he says. “That boy needs therapy or Jesus, not a pageant.”
“Just water under the bridge. And for the record, heisgettin’ Jesus,” she points out with a wiggle of her fork. “He goes to church every Sunday, doesn’t miss a single one. That’s why Reverend Trey had his eye on him. Hey.” She reaches across the table and pats Dean’s hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll see in the end, it’s for the best. Just be patient and try to … well … keep your big sweet heart open like it always is, okay?”
Dean appears to swallow a whole monologue he was about to deliver before he finally concedes with a nod. “But,” he says with a lift of his own fork, “if that boy proves too much trouble after all and you need a third slot filled on the fly, I am happy to connect you with at least four other eligible bachelors. Say the word. Good men, very good men, four of them. Maybe five if Josiah and his lady friend finally break up. It’s inevitable, the two are always at each other’s—”
“You can have my husband,” cuts in Mindy, who apparently finished her own thing and has been listening. “Joel’s been totally useless lately with the kids. He stubbed his little toe the other day on the leg of the coffee table, you’d think he lopped off a limb and was gushing blood everywhere. Like, am I raising three screaming children or two? I don’t even know.”
“Sometimes a stubbed toe sure can feel like a lopped off limb,” murmurs Dean with an endearing smile, “with or without blood.”
I glance over at Cole.
He’s frozen up.
“I didn’t see any gushing blood,” says Mindy flippantly after taking a sip of her sweet tea. “Just gushing tears. I mean, if hehadlost a toe and was gushing blood everywhere, at this point I’m not sure whether I’d be more upset at my husband losing a toe than I’d be at the mess it’d make on our carpet, know what I mean? It’s all I do all day long, cleaning up messes. Blood isn’t in my skillset, and with these dang kids concerned, I hope it never is.”
“All this blood talk is making me regret getting medium rare,” teases Dean, poking his steak with a knife. “I mean, look at all this. The cow’s practically still alive.”
Nadine cackles at that. “Oh, Dean, bless your heart …”
Cole abruptly rises from his chair so fast, utensils rattle. The whole table looks his way.
He notices the attention he just earned, then quickly laughs it off. “Uh … S-Sorry, guys, I … um … got a call from home. I’m gonna take it really quick. I’ll … uh, I’ll be right back. Super, super quick, promise.” He trips over his chair as he scurries off with his phone in hand, quickly making his way down the aisles of tables, gone.
The conversation carries on at the table, but my focus is on the door of the restaurant as it slowly shuts after Cole’s departure. I stare at it, my foot bouncing in place under the table. Mindy goes on about her crazy kids. Nadine laughs again at something Dean says, but I suddenly can’t be less invested in the table chat.
I know why Cole just abruptly left.
I also suspect I’m the only one here who does.
I quietly get up from my chair. “Um, sorry, excuse me,” I say, though no one hears me, then squeeze behind Nadine to let myself out of the corner. I apologize when I almost trip over someone’s foot as I navigate awkwardly through the aisles of the restaurant. “Sorry,” I keep saying over and over. “Excuse me. I just need to—oops, sorry, thanks, I’m sorry, squeezing by, excuse me.”
I make it through the door with all my limbs. It’s already dark. The street is silent, just the muffled murmur of the restaurant behind me. The evening air feels completely still, like it’s waiting for something to happen, breath held in anticipation. I look down the road one way and see the Spruce park in the distance beyond the storefronts, dark and uninhabited, a typical Monday.
I look the other way and find Cole sitting on the curb next to a parked truck, staring blankly at his phone.
And now I’m looking at him.
Really looking at him.
Something about his morose, vulnerable pose has struck me.
