“The Spaghetti House isn’t very far,” Jordyn reminded her.
“I said ‘good plate of pasta.’”
“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” Lauryn said.
“Me, too,” Jordyn agreed. “Let’s head over to Marg & Rita’s before it gets too busy and we have to wait for a table.”
But Tristyn shook her head. “It’s my turn to pick where we’re going for dinner,” she reminded her sisters.
Which was technically true. Their monthly “girls’ day” that usually involved the spa and/or shopping was always followed by dinner and drinks, and they alternated who got to choose the restaurant. Except that they’d become addicted to the signature drinks at Marg & Rita’s and hadn’t gone anywhere else in the past five months.
“We always go to Marg & Rita’s,” Lauryn said.
“Not always,” Tristyn denied.
Jordyn sighed. “Let me guess—you’re in the mood for Italian food tonight?”
“My mouth is watering for Valentino’s seven-layer lasagna.”
“I thought you were trying to cut down on carbs.”
Tristyn waved a hand dismissively. “That plan went out the window with the banana-pecan waffles I had this morning.”
“Now that you mention it, Italian sounds really good,” Lauryn agreed.
“I want fajitas,” Jordyn insisted, because she did. And because she wanted no part of whatever plan she suspected her sisters were concocting to throw her into Marco Palermo’s path.
“Sorry,” Tristyn said, not sounding sorry at all. “We can do Marg & Rita’s next month, when it’s your turn to pick. Although maybe by then, you’ll be craving Italian, too.”
Jordyn ignored the innuendo and crossed her fingers that Marco wouldn’t be working tonight.
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