This is pure. Unalloyed.
“Andrew?” She nudges me. “Eat some bread. You look like you’re already a little drunk.”
Drunk on you.
Without thought, I imitate her, pulling a tiny piece of bread from my larger chunk and dipping it in the oil. I never do this. She laughs.
The laughter carries on the wind, over the water, and around the earth in full circumference to find its way back to me.
Maybe I am a little drunk.
“The Sultan saw Jessica making nasty tweets about my Pride and Prejudice stunt. She got pictures from God knows who. Turns out, he has a wing of his palace in Dubai that is an exact replica of Pemberley. He called for a video chat and because I am practically an Austen scholar—”
Amanda snorts.
“—we had an extensive conversation, then an intense negotiation, and now Anterdec is the official developer for their new resorts.”
“How wonderful!” she claps. “But how did you shut down Jessica? You were the one who killed her Twitter stream? Was this your wedding present to Shannon and Declan?”
“No, but that would have been a great idea.” I chuckle as the server brings another bottle of wine and pours. This time, I sip. “No, I had Anterdec’s local media buyer contact every single outlet where we advertise and gently inform them Anterdec’s ad money would go elsewhere if they didn’t stop retweeting her.”
“But that wouldn’t shut down her account.”
“And I called my former husband, Josh—”
She starts choking on her bread.
“—who is an accomplished hacker. Gave him a video. He uploaded a link on her Twitter account. She killed her own account all by herself.”
“What was the video?”
“Can we talk about something else?” The server brings two ramekins filled with some kind of dip and a pile of fist-sized shrimp. The video is a secret I’d like to hang onto for a little longer. No need to air out everything in my past just yet. “I’d like a dinner out that doesn’t involve Jessica.”
“Or videos of transvestites who look like her, kissing you.”
“Or images in my mind of you actually kissing her,” I add in an acid tone.
She giggles and digs in. I eat, but my stomach is battery acid poured on top of a hundred pounds of feathers.
A sudden breeze lifts Amanda’s hair from behind just as she’s raising her glass to drink, the ethereal glow of the string of lights behind her adding to the mystique. She’s a wild spirit, a witchy woman in that second, and my heart beats for her, like a planet revolving around a heavenly body only because it knows no other option.
“Nine figures, huh?” She smiles, then sighs. “I guess I’ll need to figure out the time difference between here and Dubai. You’ll be there for the next two years.”
“No. Declan will...oh.” She’s right. Declan’s got his own company and this will fall on the new VP of Marketing in the long run, but for now, it’s me.
“Let’s not talk about work,” she says. “Even if I do work for you now.”
“Let’s mix business with pleasure.”
“If it involves going to Dubai and dressing like Elizabeth Bennet, no way.”
“How about going to my bedroom and dressing up as Miss Bennet?”
“Pervert.”
I laugh as my heart slams against my breastbone like a calypso drum.
Consuela herself delivers the main course.
“Lobster and steak?”Amanda asks, delighted.
“Simple yet elegant,” Consuela explains. “And no cilantro.” She tosses me a mock-angry look and leaves without fanfare.
We eat.
Rather, Amanda eats. I push food around on my plate and feel like time collapsed into three molecules on a steeplechase in my brain.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she finishes her food, pushing the plate away with a little groan of satisfaction.
“Yeah. Fine. Why?”
“You seem weird.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“No. Not tired. Weird. Are we okay?
I pat my front pocket with the ring. “We are great.”
“Good.” She gives me a shy look, then reaches down to a bag next to her, on the ground. “Because I packed an overnight bag.”
“Even better.”
“With a whole change of clothes for work to leave at your place.” The words come out in a rush, as if she thinks saying them quickly will make them less powerful.
“You’re moving in?”
“If leaving a single change of clothing is your definition of ‘moving in,’ then yes.”
I just smile.
“It’s a first step,” she says.
I touch the ring.
And the server appears with orange balls.
Yes.
Orange balls.
“Dessert!” the server says, leaving two ramekins of hot chocolate sauce next to a series of cheese puffs with fondue skewers.
“What’s this?” Amanda asks.
Consuela appears, frowning. “Andrew asked me to make you a special dessert. It was made to his exact specifications. Butter. Marshmallows.” She winces like she’s swallowed a bug. “Cheetos.” She sighs. “The chocolate sauce was my own doing. How do you eat these monstrosities without chocolate?”
Amanda laughs, pokes a ball, dips it, and eats. “Oh, Consuela! Chocolate sauce on balls is divine.”
I wisely keep my mouth shut. Consuela departs.
“Try one, Andrew!”
“I’m good.”
“C’mon! Live a little.”