9. Lark

Chapter nine

Lark

I pull up in front of the restaurant and see Kat standing on the sidewalk beside the wooden pergola that hangs over the outdoor seating. She’s wearing curve-hugging light-wash jeans, a white crop top, and a cardigan. Her dark waves flutter around her in the wind, her face framed by a strand of white hair.

When she notices me pull up beside her, a huge grin slides across her face, and those light-brown eyes of hers twinkle under the café lights.

I put it in park, pocket the keys, and grab my bag from the passenger seat before exiting the car.

“Who would’ve thought?” She smirks, shaking her head gently.

“What?” I ask, my brow quirked.

Her smirk broadens into a wide smile. “I don’t know, I guess I just hadn’t pictured you driving behind the wheel of a Firebird,” she prods.

Understanding zips through me. “Oh, yeah, I get that a lot.” I chuckle. “I helped my dad fix this beauty up when I was in high school, and she’s been mine ever since. I think in another life, I probably would’ve been an F1 driver,” I joke.

“Well, she is beautiful.” She laughs. “I love the dark-red interior. It looks like a perfect color match to the glossy outside.”

“Thanks, it actually is,” I tell her proudly. “My dad and I had the color customized so it would be exactly the same.”

She appraises me quietly for a moment, a slight grin tugging at her pouty lips. “You’re just full of surprises,” she says, a twinkle dancing in her eyes. She nods her chin toward the door. “Well, let’s head inside before we freeze our butts off.”

I nod, following her in through the glass door. A bell overhead chimes at our entrance, and a short woman with dark hair approaches us from behind the counter. “Table for two?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” Kat answers, and we follow behind her, taking a seat at a small booth at the back of the restaurant.

Once we’re seated, she hands us the menus and asks for our drink order. “Just water for me, please,” I respond.

“Me too.” The woman nods, heading back to the kitchen.

“Any suggestions for what to order?” I ask her, taking in the huge menu.

“Well, I haven’t been here specifically, but Thai is one of my favorite foods. I usually try the pad thai, drunken noodles, and panang curry at every Thai place so I can adequately see how they all match up against one another.”

“I don’t really know what drunken noodles are, but I’m up for trying literally anything you want,” I tell her, setting the menu back down on the table .

“You want to do it family style and just split those three things so you can try everything?” she offers.

“Sounds like a plan.” My stomach rumbles at the thought. I haven’t eaten as much as I should have today.

The waitress heads toward us with two waters on her tray. “Sorry, I just need to check something real quick,” I tell Kat, grabbing for my phone.

I’ve got a headache, and I hadn’t really realized how little I’ve eaten today. I open up my glucose monitor app and wait for it to process the information. The number seventy-four flashes across the screen, and the dreaded arrow points down, indicating a drop in my blood glucose trend. I can’t help but groan. Can’t I just get through one day without having to play this game with my blood sugars?

Tucking my phone away, I look up at the waitress as she places the waters on our table. “I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I also get a Coke?”

Her cherry-red lips curve into a small smile. “Not at all. Would you like to place your order now as well?”

“Yeah, I think we’re ready.” Kat smiles warmly at the woman before listing off each item. Apparently, she gets everything with egg and extra tofu.

“You have diabetes?” she asks me after the woman saunters away toward the back.

She catches me off guard, but I answer truthfully. My stomach is unsettled as I think about her boyfriend’s horrid behavior compared to how kind she’s been. I really don’t want to hurt her, but if I were her, I’d want to know .

I do my best to clear the thoughts away, but it doesn’t ease my discomfort any. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You checked your phone, looked kind of worried, and decided to order a sugary beverage, so I took a look at your arms and noticed the small bump from your glucose monitor on your tricep.”

My brows crease. “You’re oddly perceptive, but yeah, I have type 1.”

“I’m a physician assistant, so I’m used to having to take in every detail about a person to create a full picture. I also have anxiety, so I’m hyperaware of the actions of those around me.” I can tell. A lot of her behavior strikes me as sort of odd, but it doesn’t bother me at all. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of my friend Jade.

“That all makes sense, actually.” I chuckle. “Do you like what you do?”

She dips her head just as the waitress delivers my drink. I thank her and take several small sips, waiting for Kat to respond.

“I love it. I love helping people, making a difference in their lives, and getting to walk them through some of the most vulnerable experiences they’ll ever have, but it’s physically and emotionally taxing. Some days, I have no idea how I wound up here, but then I work with a patient or get to help a family that changes my whole day, and it’s easy to remember my ‘why,’ so to speak.” It’s genuinely refreshing to hear someone talk about their career the same way I do about mine.

“That’s really lovely, Kat. I’m glad you’ve found your calling. Gianni must be really proud of you,” I prod, and the way her brows cinch together makes me question whether that hit a nerve or something else entirely .

She narrows her eyes at me slightly but brushes my comment off, asking, “How about you? Do you love being a veterinarian?”

My face lights up at the change of subject to something more familiar. “I wake up every single day excited to go to work, honestly. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do, the only thing I’ve ever even considered.” My hands flail around as I speak. “Even as a kid, I had a project in elementary school that required me to take a photo of myself acting out my day in my dream career,” I say, beaming at her.

She smiles at me. “That’s sweet. What’d you do for the project?”

“Well, my mom helped me make a book that read, ‘ The Day In The Life of A Veterinarian .’ I sat on the couch, holding it up as if I were reading the blank pages inside, and sat beside my old dog at the time. His name was Buddy Bear, but he was nobody’s buddy but mine.” I laugh. “He bit every person who walked by for years. He’d manage to get off his leash or his lead in the yard and go running around the neighborhood. He was hit by a car three different times, but somehow, he was never seriously injured.” Her salt-and-pepper eyebrows shoot up her forehead.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “My mom wasn’t great about caring for him, and Dad wasn’t around a lot back then, so I honestly thought it was normal for pets to run away that often! He always came home, and he didn’t pass away until we had to euthanize him at twenty-one years old. He had a brain tumor that resulted in a seizure disorder, and medication wasn’t working anymore.”

“I’d say I’m sorry about his seizures, but it sounds like it was more than his time.” Her eyes are wide. “Sorry, that’s so messed up, but god, that’s an old dog!”

“It’s okay. He really was rather ancient,” I say with a chuckle. “Especially for a chow chow. It was pretty miraculous. My parents would joke that he was the devil’s spawn and that’s what was keeping him alive, but I think he was just being given a chance to make up for lost time.” Her brows return to their usual spot, and her eyes soften at my words. “We adopted him from a kill shelter the day he was due to be put down. I was three when my parents let me pick out a dog, and I chose him because he looked like he needed the love the most. Then I proceeded to name him two of the only words I really knew at that time.”

Kat laughs, a full-bellied one that ends in a snort, and I can feel the weightlessness I only experience when I’m with my friends. “And now, you have a dog that’s twice your size, ironically named Tiny .”

“Sure do.” I beam over at her, my cheeks climbing high. I love Rex and Tiny with all my heart.

The waitress approaches our table, a large tray balancing on her forearm. “Can I put it in the middle?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” Kat tells her, her voice light and bubbly as she helps to disperse the array of plates and bowls around the table.

“Thank you so much,” I tell the waitress as she leaves.

I check my phone one more time, and luckily, the soda brought my sugar up enough that I can take my bolus insulin before eating and not have to worry about a drop before I get the carbs in.

“Sorry, just another second,” I assure Kat, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the least. I pull out the compact insulated bag with my insulin in it and turn the top to get the pen ready for my regular dose. I use an alcohol swab to disinfect the usual spot on my stomach before pressing the plunger, holding it down for a few seconds before putting everything back in my bag.

“Alrighty, I’m ready. What is everything?” I ask Kat, excited to finally eat an actual meal.

Kat explains what each dish is and helps me sample each one. My tastebuds are exploding with new flavors I’ve never explored before. The curry is slightly sweet with a coconut milk base that pairs so well with the pumpkin and the chewy texture of the stir-fried tofu. Everything’s delicious, but I think the drunken noodles are my favorite. “Oh my god,” I moan between mouthfuls. “This is so good!”

Kat smirks. “I told ya, I know good food. Next time, I’ll have to take you to Giovanni’s. It’s this Italian café Aiyana and I love going to for lunch. They have the best calamari.”

“That sounds great.” I take another sip of my Coke before continuing. “Who’s Aiyana?”

“She’s my best friend and also happens to be my brother’s wife now.” Her smile could light up a damn arena with how bright it is at that.

“I’m sensing a story there.” I lift my brow at her.

“There’s definitely a story,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s one that would probably take as long to tell it as it did to unfold, but the gist is that they’d been in love for years, and there were a few very personal reasons as to why Aiyana was convinced they couldn’t be together. Maybe she’ll tell you about it sometime,” she says with a wry smile.

I nod in understanding.

“Okay, so Gi tells me you’ve got a boyfriend, and you confirmed that earlier today. What gives there?” she asks, her words coming out at a breakneck speed. “I just feel like you seemed a bit uncomfortable mentioning him working and not wanting to help you with the dogs.” She lifts that black-and-white eyebrow at me again. “Sorry, am I reading that all wrong?”

Her cheeks flame red, eyes widening as the wheels turn in her head. It’s almost like I can visibly see the crime scene diagram she’s drawing in her mind, each red piece of yarn leading her down a different path of anxiety about the possibility of offending me.

I let out a long sigh, slumping back against the booth seat. I don’t particularly want to talk about my and Tyler’s lackluster relationship, but it’s the perfect opening for me to bring up my concerns about Gianni.

“You’re not reading it wrong. Tyler and I have been together for a long time, and things have just changed between us. I think he’s going to propose soon, and I hope maybe that will bridge the gap a bit, but I just don’t know.”

She nods slowly, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’ve definitely been in similar situations, but I think you just need to trust your gut on this. Maybe you need to explore other options?” she asks, her fingers fiddling with the pendant on her neck. “Marriage isn’t the only way to find happiness, and if you aren’t really happy now…” She trails off. “Sorry, I’m really prying tonight, I guess. I swear, I’m not usually like this. I mind my own business and leave the meddling to Kas, but something about you tells me you have a lot on your mind.”

She blows out a long breath. “I’ll say this. When you’re with the right person, you’ll know. I found the love of my life when I least expected it. I tried to push him away, but it never worked because we were always meant to be. I think that person exists for everyone if you wait for the right time.”

My appetite is officially gone. My stomach has plummeted to my toes. This is gonna suck .

Clearing my throat, I extend my hands across the table, reaching for hers. Her brows knit together, but she allows me to make the gesture.

“You look like someone who’s about to deliver bad news,” she tells me, and stress is etched into her warm complexion.

I lean forward with a stiff neck, swallowing down past the lump in my throat before saying, “Kat, I’m really, really sorry to tell you this. But your boyfriend isn’t as great as he seems.” She wrenches her hands out of my grasp, her eyes narrowing, and her head jerks back. Shock and anger are written plainly across her face.

“You don’t even know him, so I don’t appreciate the commentary. I think we’re done here. I’ll pay on my way out,” she tells me, moving to stand. But before she can leave, I rush out the words, “He asked me out the other day, and I said no because of Tyler, but had I not seen you two together at Rocket Dog, I’d have had no idea he was trying to cheat on you. I know it’s shitty of me, but I really think fate or the universe or whoever put us together so I could tell you this.”

Kat gawks at me for an unsettling moment, her eyes wide as she stares at me for an uncomfortable moment before bending forward, hands on her knees as she bellows out the most unattractive bout of laughter I’ve ever heard. It makes me like her even more and, in the same thought, my heart clenches because this is probably the last time we’ll see each other .

I sit here, grimacing at her, my head tilted to the side and my lips pursed. I feel like I might have broken her somehow. She’s been laughing for so long that everyone in the busy restaurant is staring at her, dumbfounded.

She sucks in a lungful of air before righting herself and sliding back into the booth, leaning on her forearms. “Who exactly do you think my boyfriend is?” she wheezes out.

I must be looking at her like she has three heads. Who the hell else would I be talking about? “Gianni De Laurentiis…” I say it really slowly in case her brain decides to malfunction again.

She bites down on her bottom lip, trying and failing to repress another fit of laughter. Another squawk of a laugh passes her lips, but thankfully, it’s over quickly.

“You don’t watch hockey at all, huh?” What the hell does hockey have to do with this? Her brain must really be short-circuiting right now. If “does not compute” were a person, it’d be her.

“I prefer warm, outdoor sports over cold ones, so no, I’ve never watched a hockey game in my life. Though I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

She smirks at me. “I’m beginning to think fate really did bring us together. But not how you seem to think.”

I’m still staring at her, confused as to how this intelligent, kind woman can flip a switch to damn near unhinged in such a short time, but then I’m reminded of my mother, and the thought stabs at my heart.

“Gianni is not my boyfriend,” she deadpans.

My eyes widen, and my thoughts freeze momentarily as I stare at her blankly.

He’s not her boyfriend ?

She remains silent, scanning my face for any sign of intelligent life within my thick skull.

As my mind unfreezes, it starts to kick up as if turning on an air conditioner that hasn’t been used in years. Once it starts going, everything rushes into me at once.

The confusion when I asked about Gianni being proud of her, the lack of disappointment that he wasn’t able to make it to Rocket Dog, and the hockey.

Oh my god, he’s NOT her boyfriend!

My eyes are the size of saucers as I smack a hand to my mouth. The nausea clears almost instantly, and laughter bubbles over. “Oh my god,” I breathe, “I’m so sorry!” She joins me, laughing the same way Kira and I used to when we’d get high in high school.

“It’s really okay.” She chuckles. “I’m with his oldest brother, Alessandro. He and my brother used to play for the Philly Scarlets together. Now Ale’s one of the assistant coaches, and my brother still plays for the team as a defenseman. I am curious though; last year around this time, we had kind of a huge blowout with the press. How did you not hear about that?”

I mull it over. “I had just opened my clinic in the spring of last year, so I was busy and definitely wasn’t watching anything sport related at the time. I grew up playing soccer, and those sports columns give me anxiety, so truthfully, I just never paid any attention to them. I’d imagine only people who are really into hockey would know what you’re referring to.”

“You’re probably right, or at least, I hope you’re right,” she admits, her smile not quite as wide anymore.

“Well,” I say, changing the subject, “now that I’ve traumatized you, maybe we should talk about something a little less morose.”