6
It’s Aimee’s twenty-fifth birthday.
The Cawdor Restaurant is jam-packed. In the lobby there is a large bar with several brown-leather couches, with customers waiting to be seated, and the high ceiling has giant wooden beams across it. Not sure what this place once was or is trying to look like…but it’s posh—that much I know.
We follow the waitress to our table. As we both sit, I notice how amazing Aimee looks in her tight-black dress, her normally pale skin seeming a lot darker tonight. Spray-tan? Maybe a quick sunbed session? I wouldn’t put it past her, especially on her birthday. I check the time on my phone. Not bad. Only five minutes late. That’s got to be a record for us. Aimee picks up the wine list first. “What do you fancy drinking?” she asks me. “Red or white?”
“I was thinki
