first night came rushing back； and I quickly vowed to play it cool。
“It is。 And who may I ask is this？ There were a number of men who
terrified me that night for dozens of different and varied
reasons。”OK； so far； so good。 Deep breath； be cool。
“I didn’t realize I had so much petition；” he said smoothly。 “But
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised。 How have you been； Andrea？”
“Fine。 Great； actually；” I lied quickly； remembering aCosmo article
I’d read that had exhorted me to “keep it light and airy and happy”
when talking to a new guy because most “normal” guys didn’t respond
so well to hard…bitten cynicism。 “Work is going really well。 I’m
loving my job； actually！ It’s been really interesting lately—a lot
to learn； tons of stuff going on。 Yeah； it’s great。 What about
you？”Don’t talk about yourself too much； don’t dominate the
conversation； get him fortable enough to chat about his favorite
and most familiar topic： him 。
“You’re a rather deft liar； Andrea。 To an untrained ear that almost
sounded believable； but you know what they say； don’t you？ You can’t
bullshit a bullshitter。 Don’t worry； though。 I’ll let you get away
with it this time。” I opened my mouth to deny the accusation； but
instead I just laughed。 A perceptive one indeed。 “Let me get right
to the point here； because I’m about to get on a plane for D。C。 and
security doesn’t look all too happy that I’m walking through a metal
detector while talking on the phone。 Do you have plans for Saturday
night？”
I hated when people phrased their questions that way； asked if you
had plans before they told you what they had in mind。 Did his
girfriend need someone to run errands for her and he thought I fit
the bill？ Or maybe he needed someone to walk his dog while he gave
yet another eight…hour…long interview to theNew York Times ？ I was
considering what nonmittal way I could answer that question when
he said； “So； I have a reservation at Babbo this Saturday。 Nine
o’clock。 A bunch of friends will be there； too； mostly magazine
editors and pretty interesting people。 An editor fromThe Buzz； and a
couple writers fromThe New Yorker 。 Good crowd。 You up for it？” At
that exact moment； an ambulance roared past me with its siren
wailing； lights flashing in a fruitless attempt to speed through the
hopelessly gridlocked traffic。 As usual； the drivers ignored the
ambulance and it sat at the red light like all the other vehicles。
Had he just asked me out？ Yes； I thought that’s exactly what had
just happened。 He was asking me out！ He was asking me out。 Christian
Collinsworth was asking me on a date—a Saturday…night date； to be
specific； and to Babbo； where he just so happened to have a
prime…time reservation with a group of smart； interesting people；
people just like him。 Never even mind theNew Yorkerwriters！ I racked
my brain； trying to remember if I’d mentioned to him at the party
that Babbo was the one restaurant I most wanted to try in New York；
that I loved Italian and knew how much Miranda loved it and I was
dying to go。 I’d even thought about blowing a week’s pay on a meal
and had called to make a reservation for Alex and me； but they’d
been booked solid for the next five months。 I hadn’t been asked on a
date by anyone other than Alex in three years。
“Um； Christian； golly； I’d love to；” I started； trying to forget
immediately that I’d just said “golly。”Golly！ Who said that？ The
scene where Baby proudly announces to Johnny that she’d carried a
watermelon flashed to mind； but I pushed it back and willed myself
to forge forward despite the humiliation。 “I’d really love to”—yes；
you idiot； you just said that； try to make some progress here—“but I
just can’t do it。 I； um； I already have plans for Saturday。” A good
response overall； I thought。 I was shouting over the noise of the
siren； but I thought I still sounded somewhat dignified。 No need to
be available for a date that was only two days away； and no real
need to reveal existence of boyfriend 。 。 。 after all； it really
wasn’t any of his Business。 Right？
“Do you really have plans； Andrea； or do you think your boyfriend
would disapprove of you going out with another man？” He was Fishing；
I could tell。
“Either way has nothing to do with you；” I said prissily； and I
actually rolled my eyes at myself。 I crossed Third Avenue without
noticing that the light was against me and almost got mowed down by
a minivan。
“OK； well； I’ll let you off this time。 But I’ll be asking again。 And
I think next time you’ll say yes。”
“Oh； really？ What gives you that impression？” The confidence that
had seemed so sexy before was now starting to sound a whole lot like
arrogance。 The only problem was that it made him sound even sexier。
“Just a hunch； Andrea； just a hunch。 And no need to worry that
pretty little head of yours—or your boyfriend’s—I was just extending
a friendly invitation for a good meal and good pany。 Maybe he’d
like to join us； Andrea？ Your boyfriend。 He must be a great guy； I’d
really like to meet him。”
“No！” I almost shouted； horrified at the thought of the two of them
sitting across a table from each other； each so amazing in such
radically different ways。 I’d be ashamed for Christian to see Alex’s
wholesomeness； his do…gooder ways。 To Christian； Alex would seem
like a naï；ve hick。 And I’d be even more ashamed for Alex to see；
with his own eyes； all the ugly things I found so incredibly
attractive about Christian： the style； the cockiness； a
self…assuredness so rock…solid it seemed impossible to insult him。
“No。” I laughed or； rather； forced a laugh； as I tried to make it
sound casual。 “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea。 Although I’m sure
he’d just love to meet you； too。”
He laughed with me； but it had turned mocking； patronizing。 “I was
just kidding； Andrea。 I’m sure your boyfriend’s a really great guy；
but I’m not particularly interested in meeting him。”
“Well； of course。 Sure。 I mean； I knew what you—”
“Listen； I’ve got to run。 Why don’t you give me a call if you change
your mind 。 。 。 or your ‘plans；’ OK？ Offer’s still open。 Oh； and
have a great day。” And before I could say another word； he’d hung
up。
What the hell had just happened？ I ran through it again： Hot Smart
Writer had somehow found my cell number； called it； and fully asked
me on a date for Saturday night to Hot Trendy Restaurant。 I wasn’t
clear whether he knew ahead of time if I had a boyfriend or not； but
he didn’t appear particularly daunted by the information。 The only
thing I knew for sure was that I’d spent way too long chatting on
the phone； a fact confirmed by a quick glance at my watch。 It had
been thirty…two minutes since I’d left the office； longer than the
time it usually took me to get lunch and e back。
I stashed the phone and realized I had already made it to the
restaurant。 I pulled open the lumbering wooden door and stepped into
the hushed； darkened dining room。 Even though every table was filled
with midtown bankers and lawyers gnawing on their favorite steaks；
there was barely any noise at all； as if the plush carpeting and
manly color scheme just absorbed all the sound。
“Andrea！” I heard Sebastian cry from the hostess stand。 He beelined
toward me as though I might be holding the last of a life…saving
medication。 “We’re just all so glad you’re here！” Two young girls in
crisp gray skirt suits nodded seriously behind him。
“Oh； really？ Why is that？” I could never help myself toying with
Sebastian； just a little。 He was such an unbelievable kiss…ass。
He leaned over conspiratorially； his excitement palpable。 “Well； you
know how the entire staff here at Smith and Wollensky feels about
Ms。 Priestly； don’t you？Runway is such a gorgeous magazine； what
with all the beautiful shoots and stunning style and； of course；
fascinating； literate articles。 We all just adore it！”
“Literate articles； huh？” I asked； suppressing the huge smile that
was threatening to emerge。 He nodded proudly and turned as one of
the suited helpers tapped him on the shoulder to hand him a tote
bag。
He literally cried out in joy。 “Ah…hah！ Here we have it； one
perfectly prepared lunch for one perfect editor—and one perfect
assistant；” he added while winking at me。
“Thank you； Sebastian； we both appreciate it。” I opened the natural
cotton tote； a bag that looked just like thoseüber …cool ones from
the Strand that all the NYU students slung over their shoulder； but
without the logo； and made sure everything was right。
One…and…a…quarter…pound ribeye； bleeding all over the container； so
raw it just might not have been cooked at all。 Check。 Two baked
potatoes the size of small kittens； each steaming hot。 Check。 One
small side container of smashed potatoes； made soft with lots of
heavy cream and extra butter。 Check。 Precisely eight perfect stalks
of asparagus with the tips looking plump and juicy and the ends
shaved to a clean； white finish。 Check。 There was also a metal gravy
boat full of softened butter； a pinch…box overflowing with grainy
kosher salt； a wooden…handled steak knife； and a crisp white linen
napkin； which today was folded into the shape of a pleated skirt。
How adorable。 Sebastian waited to see if I liked it。
“Very nice； Sebastian；” I said as though I were praising a puppy for
going number two outside。 “You really outdid yourself today。”
He beamed and then looked at the ground in practiced humility。
“Well； thank you。 You know how I feel about Ms。 Priestly； and； well；
it’s really an honor to； well； you know 。 。 。”
“Prepare her lunch？” I supplied； helpfully。
“Well； yes。 Exactly。 You know what I mean。”
“Yes； of course I do； Sebastian。 She’ll love it； I’m sure。” I didn’t
have the heart to tell him that I immediately unfolded all of his
creations because the Ms。 Priestly he so adored would throw a hissy
fit if faced with a napkin in the shape of anything other than a
napkin—never mind a bowling bag or a high…heeled shoe。 I tucked the
bag under my arm and turned to leave； but just then my phone rang。
Sebastian looked at me expectantly； fervently hoping that the voice
on the other line of my Cell Phone would be his love； his reason for
living。 He wasn’t let down。
“Is this Emily？ Emily； is that you； I can barely hear you！”
Miranda’s voice came over the line in a shrill； angry