Page 12 of Infidelity Rules

Daily Special

Spring pea soup with crispy prosciutto

Basil risotto with strawberries, blue cheese and toasted black pepper

It’s late afternoon on a lovely spring day so I decide to walk to Persimmon for my shift.

Weeknights usually aren’t too crazy so I’m looking forward to a relatively low-key evening and hopefully an early night.

It’s Tuesday. Two more days until I am supposed to be meeting up with Marcus.

And I have made a decision. Yes, I will meet with him.

No, I’m not going to date him. I just can’t.

And why put myself through that when there’s Zack, a very reasonable and very married choice?

But I do want to tell Marcus face-to-face that I am flattered but that I’m seeing somebody else. He does frequent my bar at Persimmon, so I’m thinking it’s wise to show up and be honest rather than ignore his cute note. I don’t want things to be awkward.

And it’s just coffee after all. I can be an adult about this and ignore the chemistry.

Ha. Who am I kidding?

God help me.

I walk into Persimmon’s kitchen and I immediately know Chef is making one of my favorite spring dishes. The air is perfumed with fresh basil and the kitchen is covered in sweet red juice as the line cooks hull and slice through bushel after bushel of early spring strawberries.

Chef grins at me as he hustles by carrying a wedge of blue cheese the size of my head.

“Can you guess tonight’s special?” he asks. “It’s a little early in the season but the strawberries are gorgeous, so I went for it. We can always bring it back mid-summer.”

Ohhhh, heaven. Chef is making his risotto with strawberries, fresh basil, blue cheese and toasted black pepper.

He introduced me to this combo last year and I harassed him endlessly afterward until he showed me how to make it myself.

It’s never quite as good as his — I think he keeps his cooking secrets to himself — but it’s so delicious I’ll likely make it at home at least a half dozen times this season, as long as the berries are ripe and the basil is sweet.

I start prepping for the evening, searching the cellar for the wines I have in mind for Chef’s risotto. This one’s a no-brainer, a classic French rosé from Provence and a crisp, off-dry bubbly are both ideal for the dish.

.....

I’m two hours into the dinner service and it’s been smooth thus far.

My guests are low-key and eager to take recommendations, which makes my job easy.

There are no Tims leering or boisterous drunks or fighting couples I must tiptoe around.

All is calm. I do a lap through the dining room and then make my way to the bar to say hi to Julian.

He’s putting the finishing touches on a tray of cocktails and looks up just as I walk in.

“Q,” he says, nodding.

“What’s up Julian? How are things?”

“Can’t complain.” He gently chars orange zest with a flame. He then swirls the rims of several low-ball glasses with the smoky zest and looks at me. “Sorry, no pilot.”

I shake my head and playfully punch Julian in the arm.

“I’m not here for the pilot,” I say, although just thinking about him makes my face flush.

“Uh huh,” says Julian, noticing my bright pink cheeks. “Right.”

“Besides, he’s off flying somewhere, doing his pilot thing. So I wouldn’t expect him here tonight, anyway.”

“Should I expect to see him around more?” Julian asks as he continues to plow through his drink orders, shaking cocktails, zesting fruit and pouring shots.

“I don’t think so.” I sigh. “At least he won’t be coming in for me, anyway.”

Julian raises one eyebrow but says nothing. He reminds me of Alex so much.

“Don’t you want to know anything? Not even what the note said?”

I see a tiny twitch of a smile on Julian’s lips.

“I’m listening,” he says, waving vermouth over what is certain to be a very dry martini.

I tell Julian about the note. About our upcoming coffee date. And about how I am NOT going to get romantically involved with this man.

“Let me know how that works out for you,” he says.

“You really can’t tell me anything more about him?” I ask, stacking Julian’s already neat pile of coasters.

Julian shrugs. “I think you know more than I do at this point. He comes in alone. He eats. He has one drink. And he stares at you. But I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not. But I am. It’s complicated.” I run both hands through my hair and blow out a sigh.

“It always is.”

“Have you ever had a major crush on someone you knew you shouldn’t date?” I ask.

Julian nods. “Yes. But I didn’t let it stop me. I don’t follow dating rules.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And? Plan to give me any details?”

“That’s a story for another day,” he says, gesturing towards the dining room and Chef beckoning to me. “I think you’re needed.”

As I turn to leave Julian pipes up and says, “If I don’t see you beforehand, have fun on your coffee date.”

“It’s not a date,” I hiss. “It’s a non-date.”

Julian smirks. “You’re the boss.”

Chef tells me my tables are fine, but that he only has one portion of risotto left.

“You eat it now, or it’s going to table five,” he says. “Your call.”

“Now. Right now. Are you nuts? I wouldn’t give up your strawberry risotto for anything.”

Well, except for Marcus, maybe. A married Marcus.

I dive into Chef’s risotto with a spoon and it’s perfectly creamy and chewy and sweet and peppery. For a moment I’m distracted by this little bowl of pleasure, but then my mind quickly returns to Marcus. How is it that thoughts of him are infiltrating my food bliss ? That never happens. Ever.

It appears I have a full-blown, high school crush.

.....

I’m home from Persimmon and cannot get out of my emerald green sheath dress and waist-cinching belt fast enough.

Ugh, I don’t know how Dezi does it. I now have indigestion from that stupid belt strangling my gut all night like a girdle.

I unleash the offensive item, zip out of my dress and get into my soft, cozy, wine-themed pajamas.

Ahhhhhh. Relief. I’m looking forward to getting into bed with my book and a mug of hot cinnamon tea.

I have plans to see Marcus tomorrow morning and restful sleep is key.

I don’t want unsightly bags under my eyes and I need every ounce of strength going into this so I don’t succumb to temptation.

I’m suddenly very glad we are just meeting for coffee.

I’m pretty sure wine plus Marcus equals me naked.

.....

I’m heating up my water for tea when my phone pings. It’s Zack. Excellent timing, I need a distraction.

Zack: How’s my favorite redhead? You home from the restaurant yet?

Me: I am. Just about to get into bed.

Zack: Well that’s a lovely picture.

Me: :-) xxx ooo. If only you could see my PJs.

Zack: Been thinking about you. My morning waffles just aren’t the same …

Me: YOU are cute.

Zack: Trust me. Not as cute as you. Not even close.

I cannot help smiling to myself. Zack really is adorable.

Me: Hmmm. I can’t quite remember. Might need to see you again and assess the cuteness factor.

Zack: So glad you said that. I’m going to be in D.C. on Monday. Wine business. I’d love to take you to dinner. Even a late one if you’re working.

Me: I’m not working and I’d love that.

Zack: Great! How do you feel about spicy Thai food?

Me: I feel good about it.

Zack: Perfect. My favorite Thai place lives in D.C. Love to take you. Word of warning though, it’s a set menu, so you have to be adventurous.

Me: You’re on! Looking forward to it.

Zack: Alright, beautiful. I’m going to let you get your sleep. Although I do wish I was there to tuck you in. Can’t wait to see you.

Me: :-) Goodnight.