Page 93 of Unspoken Words
Anthony pointed to a booth by the window, the closest to the play area. “That spot over there belongs to Connor and Maxey.”
Embarrassment burned my cheeks. The last thing I wanted Ellie to think was that my son and I only ever ate takeout, or that I couldn’t cook. I could, for the most part, and I did … maybe three out of the seven days in a week.
But she didn’t say anything. She just gave Anthony a small smile and diverted her gaze back to her menu, and I wondered if the mention of Max made her feel uncomfortable. I hoped that wasn’t the case.
“We’ll take a large Meatlovers and a garlic bread, please,” I blurted.
Anthony nodded and sheepishly held his hands behind his back. “Certainly. And drinks?”
“Two Cokes,” I added just as Ellie opened her mouth to say what I knew would be Coke.
Anthony nodded a second time and then headed toward the kitchen.
“Bit presumptuous of you to order for me, don’t you think?” She put down her menu and unfolded her napkin before laying it across her lap.
“Did you want something else?”
She shook her head.
“Then, no, I don’t think it presumptuous.” I linked my fingers and rested them at the back of my head. “Not if I know what you like.”
“Liked,” she said, emphasizing the past tense. “What I like has changed since I last saw you.”
“So you don’t like Meatlovers anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Coke?”
“No, I didn’t say that either.”
“So you’re saying you still like what you liked?”
She pressed her fingers into her temples, a small smile shadowing her frustration. “You’re still very annoying, Connor.”
“And you’re still very easy to stir.”
Lifting her napkin once again, she reapplied it to her lap. “Fine. I guess some things don’t change.”
“No, they don’t.”
I stared straight into her eyes. Unblinking. Unwavering. My feelings for her were one of those things, and I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to take her hand in mine and trace a heart on her wrist, on the spot I owned. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to give her a reason to take flight. I had to play this slow. There was no margin for error, so I couldn’t fuck this up.
Silence fell between us, the only sound to be heard that of metal scraping stone from within the walls of the kitchen.
“So tell me about this recording contract,” Ellie said, breaking eye contact. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday because … well … I was in shock, but I’m very excited for you. And proud. Sony is a massive achievement.”
“Thanks.”
“How did it all come about?”
“Right time, right place, I guess.”
“Really? How so?”
Her interest seemed genuine; it gave me hope. “There’s an open mic night where I used to teach guitar—”
She stopped fidgeting with her napkin and smiled a little. “You taught guitar?”
