Page 129 of One Baby Daddy
“Oh no, I don’t want you to—”
“I asked you out, Addie, so it’s on me. Just enjoy the night. The last few weeks have been hell; let’s celebrate what’s to come.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I give her a wink and turn to my menu. “The filet sounds amazing with the truffle butter.”
“And the roasted cauliflower with cheese and the salt-boiled potatoes with rosemary.”
“And the house onion rings.”
Peering up from her menu, she smirks. “Looks like we might need a to-go bag like last time.”
Smiling as well, I say, “Leftovers at midnight are already calling our name.”
“Yeah but this time, I won’t be drunk eating them.”
“Which means you have no excuse to not follow proper leftover etiquette.”
She shakes her head in mirth. “There is no leftover etiquette. If you eye it, you eat it. Simple as that.”
“Which means some people don’t even get a chance to eat them.”
She shrugs and takes a sip from her water glass. “The benefit of growing up in a big family. I learned to be quick on the trigger where food is concerned. I have no shame in it.”
“Clearly.”
We put our orders in with the waitress, I order a Coke and Adalyn sticks with her water, claiming she hasn’t gotten in her daily ounces yet today, but a part of me wonders if she’s sticking with water because it’s free.
“How have you been liking your new job?”
“It’s been good. The hours are much nicer; the doctors are awesome and have encouraged me to go for my degree to become a physician’s assistant. They have a program in the office that would pay for it after I’ve been there for six months.”
“Really? That’s amazing. Are you going to do it?”
I nod and take a sip of my Coke. “Yeah, being a nurse never was the long-term plan, but I wanted to see if the medical field was something I could do for life before going all the way, and honestly, I don’t think I could see myself doing anything else at this point. I love helping people.”
“You were born to be in the medical field. You’re so kind and gentle with your patients,” she says.
“So would you say I have excellent bedside manner?”
She rolls her eyes. “You still have rough hands, they could use a little more lotion.”
I hold up my hands for both of us to inspect them. “These are man hands. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“They’re like sandpaper.”
“They are not.” I laugh. “You’re so full of it. If we’re talking sandpaper, let’s talk about your elbows.”
She points her finger at me, humor in her shocked expression. “That was one summer. How dare you bring that up again?”
“Hey, you cut a hole in leather with those crusty elbows of yours.”
“Oh my God, you’re the worst, I did not.”
I shrug. “I have photo evidence to prove it.”
“Fine . . . prove it.” She folds her hands on the table and waits.
