twotimething
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"She thinks we're on a date," Emily said, when the woman had gone, around a spoonful of something with figs in it.
"We're two friends having dinner."
"At a candlelit corner table for two and a half hours."
"It's a small restaurant, they're all corner tables."
"You ordered me the exact side I would have ordered, if I'd been allowed to keep reading the menu instead of being informed I'd taken long enough."
"That's not a date, that's paying attention."
"Mm," said Emily, in a tone that conceded precisely nothing, and ate the fig dessert, and did not, Andy noted, ever actually get around to saying it wasn't.
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More than a decade after Andy had left runway, a chance meeting at a bakery reunites her with Emily, freshly divorced and pregnant with her second child. What follows is, of course, a love story.