I slid my gaze to hers. “You mean he doesn’t always exude assholery like it’s his job?”
She frowned. “I knew he was a control freak, but I’ve only been around him when he’s in party mode.”
I shrugged, sliding my gaze back in his direction. He’d made it to the table a few steps in front of us and was already pulling out a chair.
“Casey,” he said abruptly, directing her to take the seat beside him. How politely controlling of him.
She sat down like a dutiful date and I nabbed the seat beside her so that I wouldn’t split up the two lovebirds. Julian held out Josephine’s chair and then leaned down to kiss her hair. She smiled up at him adoringly and my stomach twisted at the site. Envy wasn’t a familiar feeling for me and I wasn’t sure how to compartmentalize the sensation. Did I want a boyfriend? I hadn’t thought of it. I was too busy trying to focus on my career. Would I love a one-night stand? Some kickass sex? Absolutely. Unfortunately, the only bachelor I’d met in New York City was Nelson and something told me I should hold out for a man who’d at least showered in the last month. Y’know, draw the line somewhere…
Our waiter appeared in a penguin suit complete with a perfectly placed bow tie. He leaned down to place our menus in front of us and then popped our napkins open with a flourish, draping them over the laps of every female diner. That familiar rush ran through me as I picked up the tavern’s menu. I lived for good food. The way some people got runner’s highs, I got food highs. Reading over a new menu felt like diving into a new book. At a good restaurant like Gramercy Tavern, the menu told a story—one most people tended to overlook, but not me.
“Good evening, everyone. Our specials for today include a pork bolognese with summer squash and basil. We also have smoked trout with cipollini purée and pickled onions.”
“Oh, I’ve heard good things about the pork bolognese,” I said with a smile.
The waiter glanced over at me with an appreciative nod. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ll give you all a few moments to gather your drink orders and then I’ll be back.”
Once he was gone, we all returned to perusing the menu.
“What’s this?” Josephine asked, leaning toward me and pointing to the first item on the menu.
“It’s like a caprese salad, but with sweet peppers added. You’d like it.”
She nodded and pointed to the next thing. “And this?”
I laughed and began to explain the dishes to the table, ignoring Dean’s glares.
“A restaurant like this is known for their specialty items. I’d skip over the summer greens. It’s a glorified salad and you can get that anywhere. For the first course I’d go with the beef tartare or the lobster salad.”
“Oh my god that sounds so good.” Julian groaned and rubbed his hand over his stomach.
Josephine dropped her menu and stared my way. “Lily, you order for me. I trust your judgment.”
Julian smiled. “Ditto.”
Casey glanced over. “Uh, I think I’ll trust you too. This menu could be in French and I wouldn’t know the difference.”
I beamed. Ordering for someone else was like giving them a little present. I’d already looked up the menu when I was waiting for the subway earlier, so I knew what dishes would be the best.
Dean gripped his menu tighter, running his eyes down the list of items. “I’d prefer to order my own food.”
Josephine and I exchanged a knowing glance and I held back a laugh. What a shame, though, really. It would have been fun to prove to him that I knew what I was doing.
“Could I start anyone off with a cocktail?” the waiter asked, appearing to the right of Casey with his notepad and pen in hand.
“I’d like a rickshaw,” I said with a smile, not bothering with the cocktail menu.
“Oh! What’s in that?” Josephine asked.
“Tito’s vodka, lime, and fresh basil. It’s a good cocktail for the start of a meal. Not too filling.”
Julian smiled. “Let’s get a round of those for the table then.”
Dean spoke up, directing his dark stare at the waiter. “I’ll stick with an old fashioned.”
Josephine rolled her eyes. “Dean, you’re being a stick in the mud.”
Casey laughed. “Yeah, I agree. C’mon, babe. It’ll be fun if we all get the same drink.”
He shook his head and dropped his menu to the table, clearly struggling to keep his temper at bay. Was it that hard to be at dinner with us? Were we such terrible people to be around? Or was it just me?
I tilted my head and studied him. “No worries, Dean. You order want you want.”
“I need your permission even less than I need you to order for me.”
Silence hung around the table as we stared each other down. The waiter cleared his throat and then spoke up. “ Okay then , I’ll get the table four rickshaws and one old fashioned.”
I held up my finger. “Actually, let’s make that five rickshaws and an old fashioned. Just in case.”
Dean’s jaw ticked back and forth as the waiter walked away to fill our drink orders. “There’s a fine line between persistence and annoyance.”
My cheeks flamed at his critique, but a fire grew in my veins. If he wanted to take this dinner from pleasant to painful, why should I bother doing anything otherwise?
“Is that the same line that falls between being a control freak and just being an asshole?”