Page 46 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

Mia fingered one delicate petal. “I ordered them. I wanted to make things romantic.”

“You did,” Jenna said, squeezing her hand again. “As your wife, I appreciate it.”

“Thanks.”

“So,” Jenna said, clearing her throat. “What the hell was going on back at the house? I feel like I walked in on some sort of heated discussion between you and your ex.”

Mia set down her menu. “Was it that obvious? Adam and I were having a few words.”

“A few words?” Jenna knew she shouldn’t push, but she couldn’t stop wondering what they’d been fighting about. “Sounded intense.”

“I guess.” Mia closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You’re stressed, for one thing.” A fierce wave of sympathy rolled over her, swirling with guilt in her chest. “You’re hugely pregnant, your workplace is in turmoil, and your husband just pulled a no-show.”

“Is this supposed to be cheering me up?”

Jenna winced. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I was bitchy to Adam, and he didn’t deserve it. I’ll email him an apology as soon as I get home. It’s just—I get so angry sometimes.”

The waiter reappeared at their table, set down a plate of focaccia, and discreetly cleared his throat. “Congratulations, ma’am and—um, ma’am. Can I get you started with some drinks or appetizers?”

Mia consulted the menu. “I don’t see them on here, but do you still have those bacon-wrapped apricots?”

“For VIP guests, yes.”

Jenna gritted her teeth. “And do we qualify?” She rested a hand over Mia’s. “My wife and I feel very important.”

“Very,” Mia agreed.

The waiter harrumphed again and turned on his heel. “I’ll see what I can do,” he mumbled over his shoulder.

“He’s going to spit in them, isn’t he?” Mia asked.

“Probably.” Would it be too obvious if she steered the conversation back to Mia’s heated chat with Adam?

But Mia had other topics in mind. She shifted the roses so the prettiest blooms faced Jenna. “Don’t you love the color of these?”

“They really are pretty.”

Mia sighed. “I’m trying not to be mad at Mark right now. I’m trying to be compassionate .”

“How’s that going?”

“Not great.” Mia sighed again. “Look, I get that he can’t make it to every birthing class, but this was the last one, and we’d made such a big deal about it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was caught up in traffic or having gall bladder surgery or visiting some sick relative, you know?

But fixing the roof on his ex-wife’s house? ”

“You said yourself it was all about Katie. About needing to fix the roof over her bed.”

“Right, right—I know.” She picked up a piece of focaccia, but didn’t take a bite.

She just flipped it around in her fingers, fiddling with it like a worry stone.

“It’s just—well, there’s a guest room at Ellen’s place.

How hard would it be to move Katie’s things for a couple nights and call a repairman after the holiday weekend? ”

“Maybe it’s a guy thing? He wants to be the rescuer. That can be a pretty strong male instinct.” She picked up her own piece of bread, trying not to think about the story Adam had shared in the car. The one about Mia desperate and alone on the side of the road asking Adam for another chance.

The waiter appeared again with a disgruntled look on his face, and Jenna felt a fresh wave of need to protect Mia. For crying out loud, all the woman wanted was a nice dinner in her final weeks of pregnancy. She didn’t need snotty waiters or absent husbands or?—

Or a best friend sleeping with her ex.

“I regret to inform you the bacon-wrapped apricots are unavailable.” He didn’t look the least bit regretful.

Jenna sighed. “Then we’ll need just a little more time with the menu.”

He consulted his watch with a pained look. “I’ll need?—”

“—Stitches,” Mia snapped. “To repair the damage from removing my foot from your ass if you don’t go away right now and leave us in peace to consider our choices for five fucking minutes , okay?”

The man clenched his jaw. “Certainly.”

He turned and stomped away again. Since he’d just provided a perfect segue—or Mia had, anyway—Jenna steered their conversation back on track.

“He deserved that,” Jenna said. “Maybe Adam did, too, if he said something that upset you?”

Mia sighed. “No, it was me. I think I was just surprised to see him there. Being there with you and Gertie is kinda my safe place, and it was jarring to have him invading it. It’s one thing to have him in my workplace, but in my best friend’s house?—”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said, swallowing back the guilt with a bit of champagne. “I didn’t realize you were struggling so much working with him.”

“It’s not a huge deal. It’s just—seeing him again brings up a lot of stuff, you know?”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Memories about how bad things got between us. Between his emotional abandonment and my angry disappointment, we never gave that marriage a fighting chance.” Mia shook her head and reached for her water.

“I don’t know. Is it bad to say I’ll be glad when he’s gone?

When this whole Belmont thing is over and he goes back to Chicago. ”

Jenna swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm it was in the dining area. “You don’t think you could get used to having him around?”

Mia quirked an eyebrow at her. “You mean if he signed on for a long-term contract or something? Not a possibility. Adam always loved Chicago. Wouldn’t even think of leaving, not even when I talked about wanting to move to Oregon or when his sister tried to get him to check out job prospects in Seattle. ”

“I see.” She hoped like hell Mia couldn’t see her face flaming. Thank God for candlelight.

And thank God for the waiter, who returned to their table looking a bit like a man marching down death row. He glanced at his watch, as though he had someplace more important to be.

“It’s been five minutes. Have you had time to look at the menu?”

“No.” Mia pushed aside her menu, directing guilt-laden look at Jenna. “Would you hate me if I wanted to scrap the fancy dinner and go to Rigatelli’s for pizza instead?”

“I would love you forever and ever.” Jenna looked at the waiter. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He held out his palm and Mia gently slapped it. The waiter looked pained. “A credit card for your bar tab?”

“I’ve got it.” Jenna pulled out a trio of twenties, which was probably way too much. “Keep the change for your charming hospitality and dedication to warm customer service.”

The man sniffed. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Fifty minutes later, Mia and Jenna sat at an oversized table at Rigatelli’s. They’d placed an order, collected their drinks, and breathed easy for the first time all evening.

“This feels better,” Jenna said. “You okay?”

“So much better.” Mia took a sip of root beer as she wriggled her shoes off under the table, her bare toes bumping Jenna’s shins companionably. “God, I can’t tell you how relieved I’ll be when I can finally have a glass of wine again. Or a beer. There’s something about IPA and pepperoni, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I’m having root beer in a show of solidarity.”

“That would be sweet if you didn’t also have a glass of red wine.”

“Sorry.” She picked up her glass and took a tiny sip. “Want me to pretend it’s awful?”

“That’s a Sunridge Vineyards Pinot,” Mia pointed out. “I know how much you love that.”

“True.” Jenna took another sip. “Want a breadstick?”

“Yes, please. Think we should call Gertie and see if she wants to join us? I feel like having people around me right now. Kinda like an impromptu party.”

“The fact that you consider my elderly aunt a party either says something about your idea of fun or hers.”

“Probably both,” Mia said, pulling out her phone and setting it on the table. She glanced at the screen and smiled. “Mark sent me a text message with xoxo typed about three million times.”

“That’s sweet. He seems like he’s trying.”

“I know, he is.” Mia sighed. “I should try harder, too.”

“Text him a cleavage shot.”

Mia giggled. “Good idea.” She glanced around, then picked up the phone and aimed the camera down the front of her V-neck top. “Gotta make good use of these pregnancy boobs while I can.”

“Carpe diem,” Jenna said, biting into a breadstick. “Or carpe pectoris? Seize the boobs.”

“Amen,” Mia said, and fired off a text message. “I’ll send one to Gertie, too. A message, not a boob shot.”

“Glad you clarified.”

“I’ll see what she’s up to. If she’s free, we can send an Uber to go get her.”

Jenna took another bite of breadstick and chewed, losing herself in the cheesy goodness of yeasty dough and garlic. She was so absorbed in the flavors that she almost didn’t hear the familiar voice calling her name.

“Jenna? We have to stop meeting like this.”

She turned to see Shawn approaching their table with a surprised smile on his face. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, showing off forearms Jenna had to admit were pretty impressive, though he gripped the ever-present smartphone in his right hand.

“Shawn,” Jenna said, swallowing her bite of breadstick. “I didn’t realize you spent so much time here.”

“I don’t. Haven’t been back since the last time you and I ate here.”

“You’ve met Mia Dawson, right?”

“Sure, yeah—at that barbecue about six months after you and I—uh, separated.”

Mia nodded. “Good memory.”

“Good to see you again, Mia. Wow, you’re looking—vibrant.”

Mia laughed and sipped her root beer. “It’s okay, Shawn. You can say ‘pregnant.’ Or ‘huge.’ If the shoe fits, I might as well wear it.”

“Or kick it off under the table in a crowded restaurant,” Jenna added.

Shawn rested a hand on the edge of the table. “Sorry, I just know it’s a bad idea to ever assume a woman is expecting unless she’s shared the news.”

“That’s sweet,” Mia said. “But when it’s obvious she’s on the brink of giving birth at the dinner table, I’d say you’re safe to go ahead and make the assumption.”