Page 76 of IRL: In Real Life
I closed her door and reminded myself that touching her before we even made it out of her neighborhood would have been poor pacing by anybody with sense.
I got back behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb.
For a minute, we just let the music live.
Kut Klose this time. “I Like.”
That made her laugh immediately.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re a liar.”
“And you like that about me.”
She turned in the seat just enough to look at me fully. “You are entirely too sure of yourself.”
“No,” I said. “But right now, I’m sure of you.”
She bit back a smile and I enjoyed knowing we could spar in this way.
By the time we got to dinner, the sun had lowered enough for the city to start glowing around the edges. The patio was exactly what I wanted it to be. Small. Tucked in. String lights overhead. Enough noise from the rest of the restaurant to let a thing breathe without making it public.
Talia looked around once as the hostess led us to the table.
“You did good.”
“I know.”
She laughed and sat down.
That first hour went easier than it should have.
The conversation moved the way good music moved. No forcing. No dragging. Family first. Her mother’s line about making sure he met the woman she was, not just the one he liked looking at. That made me sit back in my chair for a second and look at her differently.
“What?”
“That was wisdom.”
“If parables had an author, it would be my mother.”
I laughed at that.
Talia sipped her drink and glanced at me over the rim of the glass. “My mother doesn’t waste words.”
“Neither do you.”
She smiled lightly. “I can waste a few if I don’t like the audience.”
I laughed. “That right?”
“Mmmmhmmmn.”
“Good thing I’m doing better.”
“Debatable.”
