“Believe me, if this guy is everything I hope he is, I won’t call you for a week.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ford sat at their designated table at Maciano’s, a favorite restaurant they’d eaten at every Monday since freshman year. It wasn’t anything expensive, but the Italian food was the best in the city. Maciano grew his own tomatoes, herbs, and peppers in a greenhouse on his farm an hour from city lines. It made all the difference in the world in Zac’s opinion. Ford liked their prices, even though he’d never paid. Zac always picked up the tab. It was easier and Zac didn’t mind. Ford refused at first, until they struck a deal. In exchange for the best marinara, Ford proofread all Zac’s papers and corrected his grammar. For Zac, it was a fair.
“What’s up?” Ford asked, standing to shake Zac’s hand. “You look like you’ve either hit a bong or the lottery or gotten laid. I’m not sure which.”
Zac shook his friend’s hand, an old-fashioned maneuver but one he’d come to appreciate in Ford. “Wrong on all accounts.” He pulled out his chair and settled into it, waving for the waiter who hurried over. “Vodka tonic please.”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter said as he dipped his head in a bow before scurrying toward the bar.
“So, what’s with the good mood?” Ford sipped his water and raised his eyebrows.
“I have a date.” Zac lifted his menu and glanced over it as if he’d order something other than the marinara. But it never hurt to look.
“Which is different from any other time you have a date?” Ford reached out and took Zac’s menu.
Zac leaned forward so Ford wouldn’t miss his words or his meaning. “It’s with her.”
“Her?” Ford asked, his eyebrows slanted downward into a V. He almost looked like a Vulcan.
Zac nodded, his grin stretched his skin to the point it actually hurt. Not that a little pain could wipe away this feeling of joy.
“The girl? From the app?” Doubt creased Ford’s mouth, forcing it into a straight line. “Seriously?”
“Tuesday.” Zac leaned back when the waiter brought his drink and a basket of fresh breadsticks. “Thank you,” Zac said to the waiter. “We’re ready to order.”
When the waiter stepped away from the table with their orders, Ford asked again, “Seriously?”
“As serious as you are about marrying Lauren.”
“This Tuesday? As in tomorrow?”
“Oh for crying out loud, yes.” Zac downed his drink in one gulp. “Tuesday.”
“Whose idea?” Ford freed a breadstick from the basket and set it on a small plate.
“Mine.” Zac reached for one of his own and stopped midway. “Does it matter?”
Ford shrugged. “Guess not. Who picked the location?”
“Me. Why?” Zac drew out the last word. He didn’t like what Ford was implying.
“Just asking.” Ford ate his breadstick slowly, chewing every bit while Zac waited impatiently for more. “How’re you going to know it’s her?”
“Roses. Why?” Zac clenched his fists. He didn’t like where Ford was going. It curled his stomach.
“Red?”
“Yes. Why?”
Ford smiled. “I’m just messing with you, man. You’ve never been this giddy about meeting a girl. It’s an opportunity to screw with your head.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t resist.”
“You’re a jerk. I don’t care how angelic you come across, you are a jerk.” Zac relaxed, each muscle aching from where he’d tightened up. He stared over Ford’s head at the mural Maciano painted himself. It was of an Italian hillside and Maciano claimed it was where he’d met his wife. The hills were a flat green and the people had no real faces. The buildings were white squares with red triangle roofs, but none of that prevented it from being charming. “I don’t want to screw this up, Ford. She could be it. She could be the one.”
“And they say I’m the romantic.”
Zac threw a piece of bread at his friend. “You are. And it must have rubbed off on me.”
Ford laughed. “I can’t wait to tell Lauren. She’s been wanting to set you up for years.”
“No. No Lauren. It’ll get back to Macie and I don’t want to hear it from her.” Zac’s phone buzzed in his pocked. He pulled it free and groaned. “Speak of the devil. She wants to talk about your bachelor party.”
“It’s Lauren’s party, too.” Ford pointed at Zac. “Don’t forget that.”
“Man, I wanted to see your face when you got a lap dance.” Zac glanced at his phone and tapped out a quick response. “I’ll see if she’s available this weekend or something. We can get the plans together then, okay?”
“I don’t care when you meet her, but Lauren said she’s working on the weekends. Fair warning.”
The waiter arrived with their food and the topic of conversation turned to the wedding. Zac let Ford talk about all the little details, even though Zac couldn’t care less. He was just glad Ford was investing his share of the sale of Blind Friends. It would make his and Lauren’s lives easier in the long run.
“Did you even hear me?” Ford asked.
“What?” Zac’s thoughts had trailed off toward money-land and work. He wanted to talk to Lauren about investing her share, but he hadn’t brought it up to her yet. Or to Ford. Maybe he should talk to Macie about doing the same.
“I said that if it goes well with mystery girl, she could end up being your date to my wedding.”
Zac sat up straighter. He hadn’t thought that far in advance. A smile grew over his lips. “Yeah, she could.”
TUESDAYS WERE NOW LAUNDRY day. Macie didn’t have time on the weekends to do much of anything. Mondays were reserved for cleaning, working on freelance projects, and watching Netflix. Unless she got called into work, of course. Fortunately, there was a laundry room in the basement of the building. She started early and finished just in time for Nancy Carter to call her in. At least her work clothes were clean. Not that the station had a strict dress
