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airy modern dining room, with new casement windows facing the street, exposed brick on two of the
walls, the floors stripped and oiled to perfection. He was painting the men’s washroom at the top of
the stairs next to the new skylights. I poked my head in to helpfully turn on the light, causing both of us
to squint in the brightness.
“Whoa, I didn’t notice the light was fading. What time is it?”
“Time for me to go home. Just letting you know Dell’s on her own until Tracina gets here.”
“Busy day?”
It bothered me that his voice could still freeze me in my tracks. It had been almost five full months
since …
“Not bad.”
It was also hard not to notice how his upper body was becoming more defined by all the manual
labor, especially his forearms. He had bits of paint and plaster in his hair that I desperately wanted to
pluck out.
“Plans tonight?” he continued, as I backed out of the washroom to check out the rest of the renos.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I have plans.”
“With that skinny boy who was just here?”
“Maybe.” I said. “I cannot tell you how beautiful it looks up here. I am beyond impressed.”
“Are you guys dating?”
“Um … he’s just a friend, Will,” I said, refusing to go there, but quietly pleased he wanted to.
The main dining area took my breath away, the smoked-glass wall sconces, the refurbished metal
light pendants that hung over the bar area. I could picture how beautiful it would look furnished and
bustling, full of shiny, sexy diners falling in love over candlelight. That’s when I saw something weird
poking out from behind the new walnut bar—a brand-new twin mattress wedged between the wall
and the fridge, a coverless duvet thrown on top.
Will came stumbling into the room, rubbing his hands on his jeans. I turned from the mattress to
him.
“Oh,” he said, looking from me to the mattress. “I’ve been sleeping here a few nights. Tracina, with
the pregnancy … I mean, if I’m not keeping her up, she’s keeping me up. And we both need our rest.
When the baby comes, everything will be easier.”
“That’s kind of the opposite of what I hear about babies,” I said. I desperately wanted to change the
subject, so I did.
“It’s so beautiful, Will, I mean it,” I said. “Your work … you should be very proud. This’ll be one
of the nicest restaurants on Frenchmen.”
“I want to have a really interesting wine list, you know? Bring some in from atypical places, like
Uruguay and Texas. They have great vineyards in Hill Country.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You will. Soon enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you’ll have to brush up on your wine knowledge, because you’re going to manage this place
for me. I want you to run it,” Will said. “Your hours will change. You’d be here afternoons into the
dinner rush. You’ll have to wear nicer clothes. I mean, not black satin gowns, but not black T-shirts
either. I’ll pay you more. I’ll pay you well.”
The whole time he spoke, I stood there watching his mouth move. Being near him, working with
him, seeing him every day—I wanted that. Watching him with Tracina and the baby, feeling the
ongoing pain of being on the outside looking in on his family life, I didn’t want that.