Page 32 of Absinthe Minded

Enzo considered the two of us for a moment and shook his head. “We’re standing room only. Let me see what I can do.”

“You do that. Technically, I’m the owner of this fine establishment, and I have the parking place to prove it.” I couldn’t resist giving him a hard time.

My brother nodded toward Maggie as if daring me to push my luck.

I winked, and he stormed away. He might play the role of perfect host, but I knew better. Beneath that chef coat beat the heart of a man who put his ambitions above all else.

She furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”

“Parking here’s a bitch.”

“Uh huh.” She opened her mouth to speak, but a waitress came to show us to our table.

Maggie ordered a drink as soon as we sat. Between her knee bobbing under the table and her fidgeting with her phone, her anxiety began to rub off on me.

I clasped my hands to keep from reaching for her bouncing leg. “Everything’s good here, but the steak Florentine is off the charts.”

She glanced at me and sighed. “I’ll have a salad and the gumbo.”

Not only had she decided on the fastest items on the menu, I recognized the look in her eyes—she wanted to leave. I had to do something, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I like your hair down.”

“Thanks.”

The server delivered our cocktails. “The usual, Gabe?”

“Not tonight. We’ll both have the house salad and a bowl of gumbo.” I latched onto the glass like a drowning man gripped a life preserver.

Maggie took a large drink and seemed to look everywhere except at me.

This is ridiculous. I leaned closer. “Are you still pissed at me?”

“No, why?”

“You haven’t said much since we got in the car.”

“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. Enzo looks good though. This is his place?”

Her question surprised me. Enzo’s was one of the hottest restaurants in the Quarter. “Yeah. You’ve never been here?”

“No. I don’t come to this part of town often.” She turned her attention to her drink.

“You used to love the Quarter. What changed?”

“I don’t know, Gabe. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting to run into you after we broke up?”

The verbal bitch-slap left me reeling. I’d never get anywhere with her if I didn’t tell her the truth. “I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I couldn’t walk a block without passing a place that reminded me of you…of us.”

She stared at me for a long moment before glancing away. “I can’t talk about this. Not tonight. Not here.”

“I understand but listen. I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation.”

“We have a situation?” She sat back and folded her arms.

I’d never been so grateful for a meal to arrive. It gave me something else to put in my mouth besides my foot. “Another time then. Let’s eat.”

The woman was killing me one sharp word at a time. I wasn’t stupid back then. I knew breaking things off would hurt her, but I’d done it for her own good. She deserved so much better than me. Hell, she still did, but things were different now. I was finally in a position to break free of the Cosa Nostra and be a better man.

We remained quiet during dinner—uncomfortable, but not unbearable thanks to the noise from the bar crowd in the adjacent room.

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