over her heart. “That’s so romantic.”
“I know, I know,” Bailey said. “I felt the same way.”
“But,” Jesse said.
“But then he starts talking about how he didn’t see Olivia in the light, and how he’s worried she’s still earthbound, and now he goes around talking to her and driving her urn places like he’s starring in Driving Miss Dead-Daisy . Is it just me, or should I be a little freaked out here?”
Jesse didn’t answer. She was laughing. “Driving Miss Dead Daisy,” she said.
“Stop laughing,” Bailey said, laughing herself. “That urn is starting to really get on my nerves.”
“He’ll let her go sooner or later,” Jesse said. “Definitely wouldn’t make it a deal breaker. But if you’re still on the fence about your relationship, then take him to Subway and see if he pays for your foot-long.”
“You ordered a foot-long?”
“So he could get two punches.”
Chapter 9
C ’est Moi was one of the best French restaurants in the city. Located in affluent Brooklyn Heights, it was just off the promenade, a walkway along the East River with stunning views of the Manhattan skyline. Now, this was where Bailey would love to buy a condo. Imagine looking at the glittering city every night from your balcony while sipping a glass of wine.
Despite its reputation, Bailey had never been to C’est Moi. Prices started at about six hundred dollars a person. Bailey didn’t think she’d spend that much on one meal even if she ever did become extremely wealthy, but from the sounds of it, the Fairytalers were regulars. How quickly life could change. She and Brad were now driving a Jag and eating at C’est Moi. Not that she was able to just let go and enjoy it. It was all slipping away. Once they moved into the lighthouse, this would all be a distant memory, a sliver of the life they once had. They came early and walked the promenade hand in hand. Bailey’s new blue silk dress made her feel feminine and pretty, and she’d even had what was left of her nails filed and applied a clear polish. The silver coyote ring was back on her finger—there was only so much she was willing to change for their new friends. To his credit, Brad was no longer complaining about the double date. Bailey wondered if he had a clue as to the prices of the restaurant. Probably not, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. She had a feeling the Fairytalers would treat. Bailey and Brad would balk, of course, as was customary, then the Fairytalers would insist and slip the waitress their credit card before Brad could even see the bill. Or maybe they just had a running tab. Either way, on the off chance that Bailey and Brad did have to pay their half, they could always sell the Jag.
The restaurant was on the top floor of the tallest building in Brooklyn Heights, and the table offered front row seats of the skyline. The décor was sleek and understated, allowing the food and the view to reign supreme. The seats were so soft you could sink into them. Champagne was brought to the table the second they sat down, along with little plates of appetizers. Crab-stuffed mushrooms, caviar, and pâté. The Fairytalers had a definite standing order.
“Isn’t this the cutest,” Allissa said after they toasted.
“It’s stunning,” Bailey said. Seriously. The cutest? The little Mexican restaurant near them where the salt shakers wore sombreros was the cutest.
“I’ll betcha you appreciate everything so much more now,” Allissa said to Brad.
“I do,” Brad said. He leaned forward in his chair, and his voice rose in excitement. “Every day is this incredible gift.”
“Wow,” Allissa said.
“But the best part is—I’m not afraid of the end anymore either.”
“As in—death?” Greg said.
“They should find a new name for it,” Brad said. “Death is not it. We do not die.”
“Look at this view,” Bailey said. Seriously. Wasn’t there a law against talking about death at dinner?
“Do you believe
“I know, I know,” Bailey said. “I felt the same way.”
“But,” Jesse said.
“But then he starts talking about how he didn’t see Olivia in the light, and how he’s worried she’s still earthbound, and now he goes around talking to her and driving her urn places like he’s starring in Driving Miss Dead-Daisy . Is it just me, or should I be a little freaked out here?”
Jesse didn’t answer. She was laughing. “Driving Miss Dead Daisy,” she said.
“Stop laughing,” Bailey said, laughing herself. “That urn is starting to really get on my nerves.”
“He’ll let her go sooner or later,” Jesse said. “Definitely wouldn’t make it a deal breaker. But if you’re still on the fence about your relationship, then take him to Subway and see if he pays for your foot-long.”
“You ordered a foot-long?”
“So he could get two punches.”
Chapter 9
C ’est Moi was one of the best French restaurants in the city. Located in affluent Brooklyn Heights, it was just off the promenade, a walkway along the East River with stunning views of the Manhattan skyline. Now, this was where Bailey would love to buy a condo. Imagine looking at the glittering city every night from your balcony while sipping a glass of wine.
Despite its reputation, Bailey had never been to C’est Moi. Prices started at about six hundred dollars a person. Bailey didn’t think she’d spend that much on one meal even if she ever did become extremely wealthy, but from the sounds of it, the Fairytalers were regulars. How quickly life could change. She and Brad were now driving a Jag and eating at C’est Moi. Not that she was able to just let go and enjoy it. It was all slipping away. Once they moved into the lighthouse, this would all be a distant memory, a sliver of the life they once had. They came early and walked the promenade hand in hand. Bailey’s new blue silk dress made her feel feminine and pretty, and she’d even had what was left of her nails filed and applied a clear polish. The silver coyote ring was back on her finger—there was only so much she was willing to change for their new friends. To his credit, Brad was no longer complaining about the double date. Bailey wondered if he had a clue as to the prices of the restaurant. Probably not, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. She had a feeling the Fairytalers would treat. Bailey and Brad would balk, of course, as was customary, then the Fairytalers would insist and slip the waitress their credit card before Brad could even see the bill. Or maybe they just had a running tab. Either way, on the off chance that Bailey and Brad did have to pay their half, they could always sell the Jag.
The restaurant was on the top floor of the tallest building in Brooklyn Heights, and the table offered front row seats of the skyline. The décor was sleek and understated, allowing the food and the view to reign supreme. The seats were so soft you could sink into them. Champagne was brought to the table the second they sat down, along with little plates of appetizers. Crab-stuffed mushrooms, caviar, and pâté. The Fairytalers had a definite standing order.
“Isn’t this the cutest,” Allissa said after they toasted.
“It’s stunning,” Bailey said. Seriously. The cutest? The little Mexican restaurant near them where the salt shakers wore sombreros was the cutest.
“I’ll betcha you appreciate everything so much more now,” Allissa said to Brad.
“I do,” Brad said. He leaned forward in his chair, and his voice rose in excitement. “Every day is this incredible gift.”
“Wow,” Allissa said.
“But the best part is—I’m not afraid of the end anymore either.”
“As in—death?” Greg said.
“They should find a new name for it,” Brad said. “Death is not it. We do not die.”
“Look at this view,” Bailey said. Seriously. Wasn’t there a law against talking about death at dinner?
“Do you believe
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