Page 29 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

Chapter Twenty

CAL

T he entryway is bright and cheerful, festive holiday decorations filling the small space occupied with a front desk and a cushioned two-seated bench. A doorway revealing what looks like the main living room fills the entire righthand wall opposite the bench.

“Well, hello,” a short, curvy woman says from behind the desk. “What can we do ya for?”

“We, uhm.” I clear my throat, unsure exactly how to phrase it without sounding like an idiot.

“We had some car troubles just up the road and needed somewhere to wait until the tow truck can come. Is it all right if we stay here for a few hours?” Lila answers, giving my hand a small squeeze, and I realize it’s still intertwined in hers.

“Of course.” The woman smiles at us. “Will you be needing a room for the night?”

“I don’t think so. They said they should have a truck out to us in a few hours,” I answer.

“No problem at all. They’re still serving dinner in the dining room, if you want to get a bite to eat.

“Thanks, and sorry one more thing,” I say. “What’s the address? I need it for the tow company.” She rattles off the address, and I type it into my phone. “Thank you so much.”

“The dining room is just through there.” She points through the open doorway, and Lila and I both smile our thanks before heading through into the living area.

“I’m going to call back with the address. See if we can get an update,” I tell Lila, nodding for her to find a table. I call the phone number, and after only a few minutes on hold, I’m able to give them our new location.

“It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get anyone out this evening,” the woman on the other end of the line says.

“Seriously? I thought it would only be a few hours.”

“I apologize, sir. With the storm, all our trucks are either unable to get out or too far to get to you tonight. I can guarantee delivery of your vehicle by eight tomorrow morning if that’s acceptable?”

I groan. At least this place has beds and showers. “Fine, it’s not like I have a lot of choice,” I mutter.

“I apologize again, sir. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“No, that’ll be all.” After a second thought, I add a gruff, “Thanks.”

I hang up and hesitate before going into the dining room, eyeing the front desk.

Should I just book a room now? I should probably get two rooms. Is Lila the kind of woman to be annoyed if I don’t update her first, though?

She’s at least the kind who deserves to have all the information up front.

She also deserves to have everything taken care of, so she doesn’t have to worry.

“Did you need help finding the dining room, dear?” the cheery woman asks, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Uhm, no, I can manage. Thank you.” I nod quickly to her and stride through the living room, into what was probably once an ornate family dining room, and now is comprised of several smaller tables, all shoved much too close together for any real privacy or conversation.

Lila is sitting alone at a table for two in the very back of the room, chatting with an elderly couple at a table a mere six inches from ours.

I sigh and make my way over to her, dodging the scattered tables and chairs.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy talking to strangers—though I definitely don’t—I’m just exhausted and knowing that we’re in for a long night without any of our stuff unless we trek back out to the car isn’t really improving my mood.

“You didn’t tell me he was so handsome,” the elderly woman coos as I pull out my chair to sit down. I glance between her and Lila and raise one eyebrow at the latter.

“Handsome, huh?” I ask, smirking.

She flushes, eyes darting up to me before she fixates on a knot in the wood of the table surface.

“Oh, son, enjoy it while it lasts. Lord knows it’s the first thing to go,” the older man grumbles. His wife smiles at him.

“I think you’re still as handsome as when we were married.”

He scoffs but meets her smile with one of his own. His face melts into softness as he gazes at his wife. They look to be lost in a moment of their own, so I take the interruption to turn back to Lila.

“So, I talked to the tow company. They’re not able to get out here this evening.”

“Seriously?” she asks, a note of panic coloring her voice.

“I can see if there are any rooms available tonight here or I can call Theo and have him come get us, but if he’s been drinking it might be a bit until he’s sober enough to drive the couple hours left.”

She shakes her head. “No, we can just stay here. I just wish I had thought to bring more than just my phone charger in from the car.”

“I can go grab something if you need it,” I offer.

“Absolutely not, it’s freezing out there, and it’s only one night. I think I can survive.” She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t think I was that high maintenance, did you?”

I raise one eyebrow at her. “Love, you can’t be more high maintenance than what I’m used to.

” The words land all wrong, the creases in between her eyes to pull together before I add, “Theo needs at least three different kinds of hair products before he’ll even step foot on the field for practice, and he wears a helmet.

” She laughs. “So, no, and even if you were, it wouldn’t scare me off.

” I laugh uneasily, trying desperately to add in some levity to the words that just left my mouth.

She stares at me, the ghost of her last laugh still etched on her face. I rack my brain for something to say when the waitress stops by for our dinner orders.

I point at something on the small menu without reading it and don’t hear what Lila orders over the roar in my ears.

“Wine,” I blurt out as the waitress turns to leave.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, turning back to me.

I clear my throat. “Do you have a wine menu?”

“Red or white?”

“Er,” I glance at Lila and can’t remember what she prefers. “Can I see both please?”

“No, I mean, we only have one kind of red and one kind of white. Which would you like?” she clarifies a bit impatiently.

“I’ll have a glass of white, please,” Lila requests quietly.

“Make it a bottle of the white.” I tell the waitress. She nods and heads back to the kitchen.

The wine comes quickly, and even though it’s horribly sweet, it at least gives my hands something to do in the stilted silence that has descended on the table since my confession.

“So how long have you two been together?” the woman at the next table asks, jolting us both out of our bubble.

“Oh, uhm we’re not—" Lila starts.

“Young love, there’s nothing quite like it,” the woman continues as if Lila hadn’t spoken at all.

“Ma’am, I don’t think you under—" I start.

“Don’t call me, ma’am. That’s my mother-in-law. Call me Cindy.” She indicates her husband. “And this is Ed. We’re here for our thirty-seventh wedding anniversary, aren’t we, Ed?”

The man nods. “Best thirty-seven years of my life.” The deadpan he gives me has me cracking a grin.

“Oh, stop,” she says, smacking his arm affectionately.

“Thirty-seven years? That’s impressive,” Lila says.

“You want to know the secret?” Cindy leans in conspiratorially. “Three orgasms a week, and not ones you give yourself.” I splutter into my wine glass, and Cindy winks at me.

“Are you getting the job done?” she asks me, one eyebrow raised.

“Uhm, excuse me?” I cough, pretty sure I have bad white wine as a part of my sinus membrane now.

“If he’s not, you can tell me. Ed can give him some pointers,” she whispers to Lila. “But looking like that it’d be disappointing if he’s not good in the sack.”

Lila giggles, and I glare at her, but before I can defend myself, the waitress is back setting down a pot pie of some sort in front of me and lumps of off-white clay covered in gravy in front of Lila.

She digs in happily as I watch with horror.

“What are you eating?” I ask, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice as she’s clearly enjoying it.

“Chicken and dumplings.”

“Like soup dumplings?”

“No.” She laughs. “It’s a southern dish, I think, but it’s sort of a cross between a noodle and like the bottom crust of a pot pie.

” She gestures for my own untouched dinner.

“It’s a dough, but it’s rolled really thin, at least that’s one way to make it, and then they’re cooked in the gravy.

It’s kind of a mix between soup and gravy really.

My grandmother used to make it for us when we’d visit her in the summer, and when Kayla and I got old enough we’d help.

” She smiles at me for the first time since I’ve sat down.

A full real smile. “It’s delicious, do you want to try?

” She holds her fork up, one of the so-called dumplings stabbed by the prongs.

“Uhm, sure,” I say, hesitantly. I reach for the fork, but she just moves it toward my mouth, and I open it on instinct, letting her feed me the dumpling. It is delicious.

“Damn, that is good.”

“Told you,” she says, smugness coloring the words.

I look down at my own pot pie, suddenly wishing I had paid more attention to the menu, and cut into it. The steam breaks the surface of the golden brown crust, a thick brown gravy sliding out.

It smells heavenly.

I dig in, and the tender beef and vegetables rival the flavor of Lila’s meal.

“Is the food really good, or am I just so hungry that anything would taste this good?” I ask in between bites.

“No, it’s really good. Like, we might have to stop on the way back for dinner just to eat here again.”

I laugh. “We could work it in the schedule, I’m sure.”

“The chocolate fudge cake is divine,” Ed adds in, cutting into a slice of his own cake.

“Very powerful aphrodisiacs, chocolate.” Cindy winks at me, as she steals a bite of Ed’s cake. “Unless of course you have a different dessert planned for the evening.”

Lila blushes bright red. If only I could be so lucky.

“Cake sounds great,” I say brightly. “So how did you two meet?”