The Hotel – 43

Because it was a Saturday evening, the restaurant was busy. When we got to the hostess stand, Edwin gave her his name. She started to enter it in the computer when she obviously realized I was with him. We knew each other because this was one of the restaurants where the troupe performed occasionally.

"I'll have a table for you in—" she did something on the computer and nodded, "—five minutes."

"Jumping us to the top of the list?" I asked with a bit of amusement.

"Austin, it's you. Of course I am."

That raised Edwin's eyebrows, so I quietly explained why. He shook his head, murmuring, "I didn't know I was keeping company with someone famous."

"Uh-huh. Only in my own mind, and hers," I replied.

As promised, five minutes later she was seating us at a table for two. The waitress came over to take our drink orders and give us menus.

"Your usual," Edwin said with a smile when I asked for a draft beer.

"It's that or coffee, and I've had enough of it today."

He ordered a beer as well, then waited for the waitress to leave before saying quietly, "You may not want to hear this, but I've missed you."

I wanted to tell him I hadn't missed him—which was the truth, sort of. I looked at him and nodded. "I tried to forget you, and succeeded for the most part."

"Why? I mean why did you want to forget me?"

"Because we have no future. You know that. You love your mountains, your hotel, your pack. It's your life and you'll never give it up."

"Whereas you love what you do and the city life. I understand." He pressed his fingers together, looking over them at me. "It doesn't mean we can't see each other now and then."

"Like you'd drive down here every weekend just to spend time in my bed," I replied snarkily, even as my body responded to that idea, as much as I wished it hadn't.

He smiled, started to say something and stopped when the waitress came over with our drinks. She stood there expectantly for a moment before asking if we'd decided what we wanted to eat. I knew, because I'd been there before, and told her. Edwin quickly perused the menu and let her know he wanted the sirloin steak with all the trimmings.

When she left, I took a deep drink of my beer. Edwin chuckled, reaching across the table to swipe his finger over my upper lip. "Foam mustache," he explained.

"It happens every time I take the first sip."

"So I've noticed."

"What were you going to say before she interrupted?"