Page 53 of Something to Prove

I barked a laugh that seemed to jostle the weight of expectation from my shoulders.

“Me either,” I admitted, blurting, “I’m nervous. Are you?”

He sipped his wine. “Very. We’ve had a few curious glances, but I’m not worried about an audience. If anyone comes by the table, I’ll tell them we’re brainstorming another guest segment for you.”

I wanted to argue that wasn’t necessary, but we both knew that wasn’t true.

“Ignore them. Let’s get two pizzas—the cheese and meat. Do you like their garlic balls?”

“Love them. We’ll need an extra order of the marinara dipping sauce. I’m a double-dipper.”

“No.”

Walker held up a hand and grimaced. “Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s a terrible habit, and I should be ashamed of myself, but I can’t quit. I need my own ketchup, my own tub of guacamole, and…my own marinara dipping sauce.”

My lips twisted indulgently. “Okay, but it’s not a problem for me. It’s like…French kissing.”

“Ew, that’s gross.” He snickered as he set his wineglass down. Before I could argue my point, he added, “Let’s order the mixed salad too. We can share if you want. It’s huge.”

“Sounds good.” I flagged a waiter to place our order along with another round of drinks. “Oh, and two dipping sauces, please. This guy’s a heathen.”

Walker snorted, kicking my shin as he shifted on his end of the booth. “It’s not too crowded tonight,” he said conversationally once we were alone again.

I absently scanned the nearby tables, noting a cluster of students, an older couple, and two families with small children. “Yeah, I guess not.”

“I wonder?—”

“How did your?—”

We spoke over each other and chuckled.

“You first,” he insisted.

I shrugged. “Nothing exciting. I was gonna ask about your interview with the retired librarian. You were all jazzed up about her book collection. Was it as cool as you thought it would be?”

Walker instantly brightened. Any trace of unease was gone in a flash of enthusiastic gesticulations as he gave an animated account of his visit with Mrs. Coleman. “Her whole house could be a library annex. It has to be seen to be believed. Floor-to-ceiling custom-built bookshelves line the walls in two spare bedrooms, a dining room, and her formal living area…complete with multiple ladders on wheels. Just like Belle’s.”

“Who’s Belle?”

“Who’s Belle? Is that a real question? Belle is…Belle!” He scowled and it was cuter than it should have been. “FromBeauty and the Beast. Donottell me you’ve never seen it. Do not. I’ll get unreasonably perturbed, and we’ll be forced to abandon our pizza and watch it immediately.Beauty and the Beastis a cinematic must. It basically shaped my entire personality and?—”

“Yo, untwist your undies, ya maniac. Of course, I’ve seen it…eighteen years ago or something, but yeah, I liked it.” I actually didn’t have a big opinion about it one way or another, and I’d wisely keep that to myself.

“Good.” Walker flashed a smile so brilliant, I was speechless for a beat.

I cleared my throat, hoping to shake off the effect. “How the fuck did a cartoon shape your personality? Is that even possible? If so, I should be an automatic member of the Justice League.”

Walker snickered, then sighed. “I was alone a lot. My mom was always gone on assignment, my dad wasn’t around. My mom didn’t encourage our relationship, which was confusing and left me with a lot of time on my own.”

“At home? She left you by yourself?” I asked incredulously.

“Boarding school. I had a few friends, so I didn’t hate it there. And it was all I knew. But one year at Thanksgiving, Mom didn’t pick me up like she was supposed to. I was ten and I was used to her being late, but this time she made the news. Mom was stuck because her school had been surrounded by the Taliban. It was scary. Not that I knew much about it. They kept the reason she was a no-show from me. I was alone and clueless during a long holiday break, so I watchedBeauty and the Beastuntil I’d memorized every line.”

I frowned. His story was so unrelatable. My family was tight to the point of being claustrophobic. There was no way one of us would have fallen through the cracks during a crisis.

I didn’t know how to respond, and settled on, “That sucks.”

Walker waved dismissively. “Old news. It might sound terrible, but it ended up being okay. My Aunt Kay came to the rescue. She’s my father’s older sister. That side of the family is Canadian, so they weren’t celebrating Thanksgiving. She’d heard what was going on and swooped in and took me home with her for the holidays. I didn’t go back to school till afterChristmas, and I loved it. She and my Uncle Richard have a huge property on the outskirts of Toronto with an apple orchard, lots of animals and activity. I met my cousins and…I saw my father again for the first time in years. That part was awkward, but my aunt has a way of making everything okay. She didn’t have much to say about my dad’s absence. Neither did he. According to Aunt Kay, some people take a lot longer to grow up, and that wasn’t my fault in any way.”