58. Dusty

We drive to a tapas restaurant south of town.

What the fuck are tapas?

As best I can gather, they’re the tiniest appetizers known to man, and Marnie says we’re supposed to share. We can each have a crumb.

City people are hilarious.

The jury’s still out on the tapas concept, but the restaurant is decidedly cool.

It’s modern and open. Marnie asks to sit outside, and we’re taken to a little hidden patio. We sit on a low couch. Flames flicker up from the center of the table, dancing over black stones. Marnie leans back into me, somehow managing to keep that short skirt over her ass while she lounges against my chest. I wrap my arm around her, letting my fingers trail over her bare arm. There’s a lake just south of the restaurant, painted bright orange by the setting sun.

There are no words passing between us, but it’s not an awkward silence. It’s nice to be able to just be with someone without the constant pressure to perform.

“Marnie! Oh my God, she lives!”

A woman with deep olive skin bustles outside, followed closely by a willowy redhead. They both wear black dresses, making me wonder if there’s an unspoken dress code.

Marnie grins. She pushes upright, hurrying over to wrap both women in a big hug. She turns back to me. “This is Renata,”

She gestures at the curvy, dark-haired woman, before turning to the redhead. “And this is Ivy.”

Renata and Ivy sit while Marnie returns to her spot under my arm. “And this is Dusty.”

Renata is staring us down with glee on her face. “Well, now I can understand why you disappeared on us.”

Marnie bites her lip, smiling. “He’s Uncle Gus’s farm manager. He’s been helping me out for the past few weeks.”

“Uh-huh.”

Renata says, laughing.

Marnie shifts closer, and I let my arm curve around hers. She laces her fingers through mine, claiming me with the gesture. “Renata is a criminal defense lawyer and Ivy is a sculptor.”

A what? Is that an actual job people have?

A server comes by, taking their drink orders, and then Ivy is turning back to us. “We’ve missed you, Marnie. Trivia night isn’t the same without you.”

Marnie puts her hand on my thigh. “I can confidently say I was not an asset to trivia night.”

Renata smiles as the server returns. “Your commentary was. It’s been boring as hell without you there.”

Her gaze strays over our shoulders and I turn to see Bo and Andy. Josh, Erin, and Skyler aren’t far behind. I look at Marnie, surprised, and she smiles, waving them over. “Guys, I wanted to you to meet some new friends.”

Bo winks at me as they sit around the fire. I find myself feeling incredibly off balance. It’s like the Silver Bend crew has been transported to the middle of the city. I have to say; they look sharp, almost like we all belong. The girls are wearing black dresses, too. They must have gotten the memo. And all the guys actually bothered dressing up. I’m proud of them for making an effort, especially knowing they did it for Marnie’s sake. Usually, we’re baseball caps and t-shirts sort of men.

I’m also really surprised that she would want to spend her birthday with my friends.

It makes me feel like maybe our two worlds don’t need to be so far apart.

It’s the perfect night, warm enough for these women in their strappy dresses. A soft breeze keeps the fire from getting too hot.

And the food.

It arrives in spades, filling every square inch of the table.

Before we can even make a dent on it, another wave of food comes out, this time accompanied by the chef. He’s not what I would picture. No white cylinder hat. No white jacket.

He’s fit. Black t-shirt. Arms covered in ink.

He’s even got a nose ring.

And this fucker is looking at Marnie like she’s a snack.

She’s sitting next to me, under my arm, and he’s got a lazy look on his face like he ain’t worried about it.

“This is Simon.”

Marnie says, introducing me to a man I have no interest in knowing.

He grins at her. “Where’ve you been, babe? We’ve missed our resident baker’s opinion on our field trips.”

She looks up at me. “A bunch of us food people like to visit a new restaurant every week. We call them field trips.”

I would ask what food people are, but they start filtering in, answering the question. Chefs keep late hours, as it turns out.

They’re an interesting bunch. Educated. Well-traveled. Funny and loud.

Normally, I would be psyched to meet new people. Especially, people like this.

But I can’t stop comparing myself to them.

I don’t have a fancy degree or an interesting job.

I’ve never been out of the country.

Eventually, Marnie is going to see that. It’s inevitable.

Meeting her friends, seeing how vibrant her life was before, I can already feel her slipping out of my grasp.

I slide my arm around her waist, holding her tight.