Benji was standing under an awning in jeans, a sweater, and a leather coat. He was nearly hidden in the folds of an oversized scarf and hat as he turned to her. As she approached, she noticed his neatly-trimmed beard outlining thick lips that he pursed to blow warmth into his cupped palms. “Damn, girl,” he greeted, stomping his feet to knock off the chill. “It’s cold as hell out here.”

“Yeah, you’re not in Georgia anymore,” Deven said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “And you’re the one that wanted to meet on the waterfront.”

Benji nodded towards a restaurant nearby, the patio enclosed with vinyl plastic panels to block out the elements. “Is that place any good?”

Deven shrugged. As much as she and Justin had visited this area, she’d never tried it. “I’m not really hungry,” she announced.

“I am.” And with that, he led the way, not turning, or apparently caring, to see if Deven followed suit.

It was an Italian spot, by the distinct aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and basil Deven caught as soon as they pushed through the door. The restaurant was dimly lit to set the intimate ambiance, accented by a symphony of background music that was nearly drowned out by kitchen noise. Since it was a seat-yourself establishment, Deven followed Benji to a table (inside, thankfully), near the back of the restaurant. She assumed it was more so needing privacy to discuss their business as opposed to romanticism. Even if the latter was the case, Benji certainly didn’t seem like the romantic type.

They hadn’t even taken off their jackets before a teenager flounced over and sat two, laminated menus on the plastic checkerboard tablecloth. “Can I get you two something to drink?”

Deven waved her away while Benji ordered a beer. “You know you can order something,” he said, untying his scarf. “It’s not like this is a date or nothing.”

Deven wrinkled her nose, unsure whether he was serious or just joking to break the ice between them. “I’m not hungry,” she repeated her earlier sentiments from outside. Her stomach was in knots. She didn’t think she could eat anything if she tried.

“You should eat something,” he said, and left it at that.

The waitress returned and Benji ordered a Chicken Parmesan lunch special. And because she knew it would appease him, Deven went ahead and ordered a water and a Caesar salad that she didn’t plan on eating.

“I’m glad you responded,” Benji started as soon as they were left alone again. “I wasn’t even sure that was your number.”

Deven nodded, absently fiddling with her straw. “I didn’t know you had it.”

“Ken gave it to me, just in case.”