Page 130 of One Baby Daddy
Fuck, she’s totally calling my bluff. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.
* * *
“Oh my God.” Adalyn leans back in her chair, pats her face with her napkin, and in the most ladylike manner, rubs her belly. “Now I know what they mean when they say you’re eating for two.”
“Two?” I raise my eyebrows in question. “Adalyn, you ate for an entire platoon. What happened to leftovers?”
“There are still leftovers, so don’t make it seem like I ate all the food. You had a part in this massacre as well.” She motions to the almost-clean plates.
Playing with a potato on my plate, I say, “It was really good, wasn’t it?”
“So good I might cry myself to sleep thinking about that truffle butter.”
“And you know, oddly, I was okay eating it even though in the Urban Dictionary it’s known as something else.”
She scoffs. “Ugh, those Urban Dictionary people. They have taken a delicacy and ruined it with their perverted minds. They have taken away my ability to shout in the middle of crowded area that I love truffle butter. Jerks.”
Chuckling, I say, “Because you’re often shouting into crowds about fine foods.”
“I would more often if Urban Dictionary didn’t ruin it for me.”
“Want me to write them a letter?”
She plucks a piece of lint off her dress. “Yes, I think that might help. I get them wanting to be creative but if we could keep fine foods off the table, that would be appreciated.”
“It’s a fair ask. I’ll craft my email tomorrow.”
Nodding and closing her eyes, she says, “You’re a good man, Logan, a very good man.”
Paying the check and grabbing our small amount of leftovers we head to the car. “There is an overlook over there, want to go check it out?”
Adalyn looks over my shoulder and smiles. “Would love to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the city at night.” We put the leftovers in the car and head to the lookout. There are a few people milling about but not enough to make it crowded.
Walking to the rock wall, we take in the cityscape.
“It’s so pretty at night. No smog distracting your view, glittering lights sparkling among the dark palm trees. Makes me think of La La Land.”
I chuckle. “That movie. Don’t even get me started.”
“Besides the end”—she touches my shoulder—“it was a good movie, admit it.”
“I can’t admit to a movie being good if the end sucks. Sorry, but I will never be a fan.”
“But . . . Ryan Gosling,” she defends.
I shake my head. “That’s not going to work on me.”
“Fine, Emma Stone.”
I shrug my one shoulder. “Eh, she’s beautiful, but she didn’t give me the feelings like Rachel McAdams did when she was teamed up with Ryan in The Notebook.”
“You’re absurd. Emma and Ryan by far have more chemistry.”
Turning toward her, I point to my chest. “I’m absurd? You’re the one saying Emma and Ryan had more chemistry in La La Land, than Ryan and Rachel in The Notebook. Take a poll right now. Twenty bucks says Rachel and Ryan win. Go ahead ask the people around us.”
Taking in the couples around us, she turtles in on herself and shakes her head.
“Aha, because you know I’m right.”
