I almost didn’t recognize her without her meter maid uniform on. Then I saw the pinched-nose scowl.
“Hello to you too, Penelope,” I said dryly.
Titus chuckled low in his throat. “You look lovely as ever tonight, Penelope.”
Her face cleared the second she looked at Titus, a pretty blush creeping into her cheeks and making her appear younger. Actually, that brought up a good question. I had no idea how old Penelope was. She acted at least seventy, but with her face all lit up with the attention of a handsome man, she could pass for barely thirty.
“Why, thank you, Titus. You are always so kind.”
Dear Lord, she was practically simpering at my boyfriend while we were obviously here on a romantic date. A flare of anger had me sitting up straight, the hinge of my jaw warming up for the ill-advised verbal lashing that was sure to come.
“Let’s let the new lovebirds get back to dinner,” Polly murmured, having come up behind Penelope while I decided on exactly how to tell her to take her grimy eyeballs off my boyfriend. Now that we were dating, only I could eye fuck him. New rule.
The pair moved off to a table, glancing over their shoulders at us at regular intervals.
“Here we go,” I murmured, looking around the dining area for the first time and seeing quite a few people I recognized giving us second and third glances.
“Ah, they’re harmless. Probably just want to get the scoop before Poppy.” Titus smirked.
“How do you do that?” At his frown, I continued. “How do you just let things slide right off you while I’m over here getting my blood pressure all screwed up? And why is Penelope hanging out with Polly? We should watch them. I bet they’re up to no good.”
Titus blinked rapidly. “And how do you do that?”
“What?”
“Have five completely different thoughts running through your brain at one time?” Titus laughed and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Our food arrived and we put our questions away for the moment to feast on the deliciousness that only Forty-Diner could offer. I was just about stuffed when Poppy came hustling past us, then almost skidded to a stop before she put it in reverse and came back to our table, eyes wide.
“Ho ho! I see y’all are an official thing now, huh?” she chortled, quite pleased with herself for finding something new to gossip about.
Titus looked at me, I looked at him, and then I gave Poppy a winning smile. “You didn’t think I’d keep this guy waiting forever for me, did you?”
Poppy hitched her head to the side, short green hair reflecting in the overhead lights. “I don’t know. I think the majority of Auburn Hill said you two would be married by twenty-five, so I guess you kept him waiting long enough, girl.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Poppy huffed. “When you two graduated, there was a bet going around. Everyone’s money was on you marrying sooner rather than later. Aren’t you pushing thirty?”
“Hey!” I didn’t appreciate her insinuating I was getting old. Seemed a little cheeky coming from a senior citizen. And a community bet? What the hell?
Poppy turned to Titus, patting him on the shoulder. “Good work, son. She’s a firecracker. I’m sure you’ll live a very interesting life. Enjoy your dinner.” And then she marched off to join Penelope and Polly, already pulling out her cell phone and wrangling her reading glasses onto her face to rapid fire texts around town about our date.
I turned to Titus, my mouth hanging open. “Did you know about this bet?”
Titus huffed. “No, of course not. Probably just Poppy being ridiculous. I doubt there was a real bet.”
Our server cleared our plates and Titus fiddled with his napkin as he ordered their famous death-by-chocolate-cake. He no longer looked me in the eye and it made me nervous.
“What?” I finally asked, reaching across the table to grab his hand.
He looked up, an apology hanging there in his gaze. I had no time to question him down, because a raucous noise started up behind my back.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy, happy, happy…” The singing continued and a cluster of no less than five servers formed around me, plopping a huge plastic crown on my head and clapping with each word. Clearly, their talents were serving food, not singing, but what they lacked in talent, they made up for in enthusiasm.
“Happy birthday!” exclaimed our server at the end of the song, lighting the candle on our huge slice of cake.
They all filed off to wait on their tables, leaving palpable silence in their wake.
“What the hell?” I said, stunned.
Titus’s fist was jammed to his mouth, but the second I spoke, he burst out laughing, the kind that shakes the table and turns heads.
“Oh my God. That was amazing,” he said, wiping his eyes, still chuckling.
I leaned over the table and whispered furiously, “It’s not my birthday, dummy!”
He laughed harder, his blue eyes fairly dancing with mirth. If he didn’t cut it out soon, I’d have to laugh with him and I was really trying hard to act pissy about the impromptu birthday song. Who does that to another person when they know it’s not their birthday? Now people would be phoning my mother and conveying their birthday wishes and my mom would be calling me wondering why everyone was doing so. You can’t do shit like that in a small town without a ripple of repercussions.
“I know. That’s what made it so fun,” he finally said, reaching across the table for my hand. I folded my arms across my chest instead.
Yedda breezed by in a cloud of cat hair, calling out happy birthday to me before stopping at Poppy’s table and swiping a ten-dollar bill out of her hand.
“Told you that girl is as stubborn as they come!” Yedda cackled and then shot me a wink.
I turned back
