The scent of the Delmonico strip did make her mouth water. The chilled asparagus tips in balsamic vinegar on the side had no allure, though. Polly stared at the tips, determined to keep from breaking with her initial refusal to order food.
“Are you sure?” Peter asked. “I could share with you. I could call the waiter back. Anything you want. Is it your medication bothering you? You shouldn’t have to choose between food and medicine. That doesn’t seem right.”
Polly rubbed her face and cast her eyes across Peter’s plates. The bread lay untouched and he had nudged the baby new potatoes in herbed butter off to the side near the crystal bowl of mango and pomegranate salad. Peter slipped the plate of potatoes into Polly’s place setting. The garlicky steam rolling off the plate plunged her into inescapable desire. She speared a potato and let it dissolve across her tongue. Peter set the fruit salad beside the potatoes.
“Aren’t you eating anything besides the steak?” Polly asked.
“I’d rather have the crème brulée and a good port, if they can possibly find one around here. I planned to just leave this other junk.” He shifted the bread to her side and returned to precisely mincing the Delmonico.
Polly was surprised to find the potato plate empty. Only a moment had passed, it seemed, yet she had eaten the potatoes and half the bread. She savored a spoonful of the fruit salad as Peter exchanged low mutters with the waiter.
As the waiter departed, she said “Peter…this was a wonderful meal. Thank you. I just…I’m worried about what happened earlier.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself, sis. I’m not worried.”
“That’s what bothers me. That poor girl is going to have your baby and you don’t seem to think any more of it than if she told you she just bought a goldfish or stubbed her toe.”
“You’re a big girl now, Polly. You know that babies are a potential hazard of a relationship, just something you accept when you get involved. It’s like going sailing. You know that a rogue wave or a sudden squall can dump you over, maybe drown you, but you still do it because you love the sport. It’s all part of the game.”
“But Peter…This is not really the same thing at all. You have another person’s life in your hands. That’s an awful responsibility, something much more than getting yourself back to shore after a bad sailing day. I don’t think you appreciate it completely.”
“I appreciate this. You and Lyndsey never had children, for whatever reason. That makes you think very differently about this situation. Your judgment is colored by your regret and desire.”
“Wait. Is this…not the first time this has happened?”
“Trust me, Polly. I know what I’m doing.”
