Page 62 of Third Chances (Men of Manhattan 2)

The waiter finished jotting down the weird shit that just came out of Daphne's mouth. "Of course. There's a list of sides on page two."

Daphne turned back the page. "Are your green beans steamed?"

"Yes, and they're tossed in a delicious garlic sauce."

"Oh, no. That doesn't sound delicious to me. Is it possible to get them not tossed in the garlic sauce?"

"Um, certainly. And for your other side?"

"What potatoes are your mashed potatoes made from?"

"Red potatoes I believe. But I'd have to check."

"That won't be necessary. I don't want to inconvenience you. Do you know if your French fries are prepared with sea salt or Himalayan salt?"

"Neither. We leave the seasoning to the patrons. There's sea salt on the table as well as old bay and..."

"That's awesome," Daphne said, cutting the waiter off again. "Actually, I'll just have the French fries after all then. Thank you so much." She closed her menu and looked at me.

What the fuck just happened? I laughed awkwardly. It kind of felt like my happy bubble had just popped. But it did give me more material for teasing her. "The prime rib, medium."

"That comes with green beans with garlic sauce and mashed potatoes, is that okay?"

"Yeah that sounds great." I'm not a lunatic.

"We almost missed out on dinner," James almost shouted as he sat down. He immediately cleared his throat.

First Daphne was acting crazy with her order and now James was yelling. Is everyone high or something?

Matt gave me a thumbs up before he sat back down.

"What?" I mouthed silently.

"You'll see," he said silently back to me.

I was definitely missing something. It must have been make the waiter as uncomfortable as possible day. As soon as the waiter was done taking everyone's order I turned to Daphne. "Um...what the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"The way you just ordered was..." I didn't know how to finish my sentence.

"Crazy? Embarrassing? Bossy? Rude? Mortifying? Ridiculous?" Kristen gave a list of adjectives to fill in my pause.

"Yeah, what the hell, does she always order like that?" I asked her.

"Always. It's horrible."

I laughed and looked over at Daphne. Maybe I didn't know what she liked at all. "You know, the chef prepares everything the way he thinks it'll be best."

"Exactly. The way he thinks it'll be best. Not me."

"But he's a culinary expert."

"Have you seen his resume?"

"No, but..."

"Exactly. He could just be some schmuck they pulled off the streets."

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