Page 32 of The Holy Grail

“That’s probably the last time,” David added.

Malcom sat down again. “I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

Paige gave him an abashed smile. “It was a surprise to us, too, at first, but we’ve gotten used to it.”

Just as Malcom was trying to imagine getting used to that kind of ruckus, a third howl came, this time with thankfully less volume.

“Okay, that was probably the last time,” David said. “She tends to do it more when Jacob isn’t home, because she sleeps in his room and misses him when he’s gone.”

Jules took a drink of her wine. “Malcom has a cat. A tortie.”

Paige immediately perked up with delight, only to frown at Jules. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I just did.”

“I meant before .”

Knowing Paige was referring to their conversation at Macaroni’s, Jules shrugged. “Sorry. It must have slipped my mind.”

Turning to Malcom, Paige asked, “So, you have a cat?”

To his surprise, Jules went on to share the details of how Dawn Corleone had come to be his pet, and even though Jules poked fun at him again for mis-gendering the cat and making Paige and David laugh, Malcom didn’t mind.

It was a nice moment while he watched the woman he was falling for talk about him, with animation and affection.

The meal itself was also great—a perfectly prepared lasagna, fresh green beans, and side salads made from a mix of spring greens, topped with a drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette dressing.

“This is amazing,” Malcom said, not knowing who had actually put the meal together.

“Thank you,” David returned .

With her wine glass held in front of her mouth, Jules whispered to Malcom, “Your salads are better.”

“I heard that,” David said.

“I wasn’t saying your salad isn’t good …” Jules took a quick drink of her wine. “It’s just that—”

“Malcom’s are better?”

“Yes. But don’t take it personally. He wants to be a chef.”

David gave the other man an interested look. “Really?”

Malcom nodded. “Someday.”

Paige leaned forward. “You mean like a chef in your own restaurant?”

“Yes, that’s the plan. I’d like to go to culinary school, then open a restaurant in the future.”

David got up to get the bottle of wine and refill a few glasses. “So what do you currently do?” he asked Malcom.

Paige frowned at David. “I told you he was a lawyer.”

“Shit, that’s right.” He gave an apologetic smile, before adding, “I’m probably having trouble remembering that, because Jules said she would never, ever , date a lawyer, not even if he was the last man on earth.”

“And not even if her vibrator was broken,” Paige added.

Malcom’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

David looked at Jules. “Isn’t that what you said? Repeatedly?”

Ignoring David, Jules reached over to take Malcom’s hand and squeeze. “That was before I met you.” Then, to David, she said, “People can change their minds, you know. And in my defense, he’s not a very good lawyer, so it’s almost like he isn’t one.”

David’s expression turned to one of shock at the put-down. “Jesus, Jules.”

“What? Those are his words, not mine, and I have no reason to believe he’s lying.”

Malcom nodded. “I’m really not a good lawyer. Mainly because I hate being one.”

“Then why be one?” David asked, genuinely curious. “Seems like a waste of valuable time, doing something you hate.”

“It is, but I have an exit strategy,” Malcom replied, then shared the abridged version of why he’d become a lawyer in the first place. When he was finished, he turned the tables on David. “Did you always know you wanted to be a photographer?”

David shook his head. “Not always. It sort of happened by accident, to be honest. In high school, I had a thing for this, uh, particular girl—” he broke off for a moment as Paige rolled her eyes at him.

“Anyway, this girl was on the yearbook staff, so I decided to join, and even though the thing with the girl didn’t last for more than a month, my love of photography was born.

There was just something about capturing a specific moment in time that immediately hooked me.

So, I got my business degree in college, then opened up my own studio … and the rest is history.”

“What was the girl’s name?” Paige wanted to know, her tone half-challenging, half-sultry.

David blinked at her several times before finally muttering, “God, I knew you were going to ask me that.” Then, with a chuckle, he said, “I don’t remember … probably because she didn’t have eyes the color of a Sabre-Toothed Squirrel.”

Paige reached over to grab David’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “Good answer.”

Once they’d separated, Malcom asked. “What’s a Sabre-Toothed Squirrel?”

Smiling, Paige told him, “It’s kind of a long story.”

“I love long stories.”

With a nostalgic smile, Paige proceeded to tell the story of how she and David met in a bar, and how he’d compared her eyes to the color of the ale he was drinking.

“Smooth,” Malcom said. “Very smooth.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” David countered.

“Yes, it did,” Paige agreed, helping herself to another kiss.

Jules turned to Malcom. “You know, to this day, David refuses to acknowledge I was the one to get them together.”

“I’ve acknowledged your part in getting Paige into the bar, but after that, it was all my charm,” David said. “Which you have never acknowledged.”

“Speaking of charm …” Paige shifted the conversation and leveled her attention on Malcom. “Why don’t you tell David how you and Jules met? That’s a fun story.”

As Malcom shared the details of that eventful night, he found himself really opening up in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

He’d felt closed off and isolated after his divorce, but now, in this moment, he was comfortable and content.

The loneliness which had been his constant companion for the past few years had all but disappeared when Jules took up residence in his life, and as the three people at the table laughed at Malcom’s version of meeting Jules, he began to feel the beginnings of … friendship.

It was like getting a glimpse into his future, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

It did, however, scare the shit out of him a little bit, because he didn’t want to lose it.