Page 28 of The Situation
“Likewise,” she says.
“Fenton, Brynne, this is my date, Kelly,” Tate says. “Kelly, this is Fenton and Brynne Abbott.”
My heart leaps at being put on the spot. I have no idea what to do.Do I stand, too? Shake their hands? Am I supposed to do that double-cheek kiss thing some women do?
Neither Brynne nor Fenton extends a hand, so I stay seated. Fenton gives me a subtle nod. Brynne, however, turns toward me with a bright smile.
“Are you having a nice time tonight?” Brynne asks as her husband engages Tate in conversation.
“Yes. I’ve never been here before, and the food is divine. I’m highly impressed.”
“Have you chosen dessert yet?” She smirks and glances at Tate. “Aside from the obvious.”
I exhale, relieved to be in the presence of a girl’s girl. “Not yet.”
“Let me suggest the blueberry pie, which, I know, is an odd choice. But Fenton insists that every restaurant he opens in the Ruma chain comes with one dessert unique to that location. The head chef here chose blueberry pie as an ode to the Midwest.”
“My boss knows the man who owns this hotel chain. So we stay in his hotels when we travel, if possible.”
“I just realized that you own the hotel,” I say, with a small laugh. “Please pardon what I fear is a look of disbelief on my face.”
“How would you possibly know?”
Fenton turns to his wife. “Are you ready, Rudo?”
Rudo? What does that mean?
“Yes,” she says. “It was nice to meet you, Kelly. Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”
“It was nice to meet you, too,” I say, withholding my internal commentary that not only will I not see her again, but I won’t see Tate, either.
Tate and Fenton exchange goodbyes.
“I’m sorry about that,” Tate says, sitting across from me.
“No, it’s fine. What an interesting couple …”
“You have no idea. My brother—I mean, my boss—has been friends with Fenton for a long time. I guess he and his wife have quite the story.”
“I got that vibe.”
“From meeting them for five minutes?”
I nod.
“How?” he asks.
“You can tell by how they interact with one another. The way they touched so familiarly, and how they spoke so respectfully. There’s trust there. Respect.” I smile softly. “It was pretty obvious.”
I reach for my drink and take a quick sip, my cheeks ablaze.
“Is that the kind of relationship you’re after?” Tate asks.
My glass returns to the table as my chest tightens. “Me? No. It probably was at one point.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but being in a respectful, trusting relationship feels aligned with your cozy-girl thing.”
I grin at him. “True. But I’m not after a relationship.”
