Page 35 of Dear Pink

Gina? Another woman? Oh, boy, I know how to pick’em, don’t I. "Go. You should check-in."

"Okay. Back in a minute."

I glance around the room and wish for a glass of wine. I feel the female customers’ eyes on me, judging me unworthy of such a god-like man. I want to turn around and yell, “No worries. We’re just friends.” I try to appear busy but playing with my phone is lame.

"Gabe’s a great guy," Sasha says, standing next to me. She holds a stack of menus in her hand and the biggest smile. Her white teeth gleam like she’s ready to devour my carcass after this ruinous date. "I adore him. He's the best."

"Hmm." I have no words. Does she want to compare notes? This is weird.

"He's a hottie too."

"Hmm," I say again

"So, how's the date going? You two are cozy over here."

"Uhh." I’m done with this awkward interrogation. "Cozy?"

"Yeah, he likes you."

"We're bike friends."

"Why only friends?" she asks.

"I'm more of a serial monogamist kind of girl.” Why did I tell this woman my relationship status? “I don't think we're asuitablematch,” I clarify. I hope she gets the message and leaves me alone. Why does she even care? Isn’t her friend Natasha also dating Gabe?

Sasha’s mouth opens, and she starts to say something, but the bartender waves at her. "Oh, gotta go."

Thank goodness. I search around for Gabe and spot him standing behind me. How long has he been there? He wears an expression I can't decipher.

"Everything okay?"

"Couldn't be better." He grabs my hand and sits.

I’m confused as hell. “What’s the best dish here?” I planned to order the most expensive item on the menu, but I don’t have the heart to do it anymore, especially with his warm solid hand on mine. Gabe gazes at me the same way he did when he talked about Lolly.

“The skirt steak with fregola and orange salad is their specialty.”

“What’s fregola?”

“It’s similar to couscous but better.”

“Better than couscous? You talk a big game.”

He laughs. “I promise you’ll love it.”

He says the words with such confidence I want to trust him with my order and my heart, but I can’t. “Promises are hard to keep.”

“I don’t have trouble keeping mine. Do you?”

“No,” I say almost in a whisper. I can’t fall for Gabe. He’s wrong for me, and we’re just friends. I peer at his hand in mine, his thumb gently brushing over the top. I swallow hard, my belly in knots.

“In fact,” he says holding my gaze, “if I order a piece of cake, I only eat my cake. I don’t eat anyone else’s.”

I’m unsure what to say. Is this code for something or does he want cake and doesn’t want to share? “Yes, I usually eat my own cake too.” Especially chocolate cake.

He smiles and nods.

“So, you bike a lot?” I ask, changing the subject because I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me.

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