A Date with a Foodie (The Dating Series Book 7)

in. Abbey is a senior in high school and one of my hostesses. I look over at her in the corner, wrapping up the silverware. She looks up at me and grins. “Like, every table I walked past there was at least someone talking about it.”
This makes me happy. “Good. I might add it to the main menu if we keep getting this response.” The kitchen door opens and Katy walks in. “How’s it looking out there?” I ask her.
She grabs a carrot and smiles as she takes a bite. “Almost empty. You have a table you haven’t visited yet though. He got seated after your last round.”
Usually, I like to walk through the restaurant and talk to the people. I like being able to interact with them. I hang my apron up and make sure my shirt doesn’t look wrinkled. “I’ll go out there now.”
Before I can get out the door, Katy steps in front of me with a mischievous smile on her face. She takes another bite of her carrot. “Just to warn you, he’s really good looking and by himself. I didn’t see a ring on his finger.”
Rolling my eyes, I look at her as if she’s lost her mind. “Hitting on my customers isn’t professional.”
Katy snickers. “No, but in this case, I’d make an exception. He’s really hot.” Now she’s got me curious.
I walk over to the door. “What table is he at?”
“Table twenty. You’ll see him through the window. Just don’t let him see you.”
When I get to the door, I have no clue why I’m even considering peeking out the window. I should just go out there and ask him how his dinner was like I do with everyone else. I haven’t been on a date in months. The last guy I went out with ended up being married and I had no clue. Needless to say, that ended pretty quickly. I’ve had horrible luck with men. When you’re thirty-five years old, most men are either married or divorced. Going with someone younger has crossed my mind, but I don’t think I’m ready for that either. Hence, why I don’t date anymore.
Slowly, I lift up on my toes and focus on table twenty. The man’s back is to me so I can’t see his face. However, when he turns to the side, I know exactly who he is. It’s been sixteen years since I’ve seen him, but there’s no way I could forget his face.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, clutching my chest. I move away from the door.
Katy’s eyes widen. “What? Do you know him?”
A smile lights up my face. “Yeah, you can say that. His name is Adam. I haven’t seen him in so long.” What is he doing here? The last time we saw each other was right before he moved to New York.
Katy throws up her hands. “Why do I not know who he is? I’m your best friend. Judging by the look on your face I’d say you know him. Like in more than just a friendship kind of way.”
I can feel the heat flood to my cheeks. “I met him at Northwestern when I was a freshman. He was a senior and we had the same anthropology class.”
Katy slaps a hand over her mouth. “Is he the guy you studied with and always came back to the apartment with your clothes all wrinkled and sometimes backwards?”
Closing my eyes, I look away sheepishly. “Yes. It was college and we were just having a good time. That spring, he moved back to New York after he graduated.” It wasn’t serious between us, but I really enjoyed spending time with him. Over the years, I’ve thought back on him and wondered what he was up to. Now he’s back in Chicago.
Taking a deep breath, I wink at Katy. “Here we go.” I walk out the door toward Adam. He glances over his shoulder and my heart skips a beat when he smiles at me.

2
Adam
Being back in Chicago really brings back fond memories from college. I loved it here and had hoped to stay but my passion was to be a news anchor in New York City. Still, I can’t help but think about all the good times I had in Chitown. One of the best memories was being with Madeline Metcalf. We dated—if you can call it that—when I was a senior and she was a freshman. I saw her across the quad early in the fall. She had dressed in a thick cream-colored cable knit sweater and the sleeves of her cranberry colored turtleneck stretched beyond the cuffs. She rolled the jeans she wore at her ankles and she had on duck boots, and I found myself wondering if they were real or just a knock off version. I don’t remember how long I stood there and watched her, but I was fascinated by her. My issue back then—I was leaving in May and had no intentions of returning.
Until now.
My return is strictly business, but that didn’t stop me from making a reservation at Madeline’s restaurant. I wasn’t surprised when I read the yearly alumni magazine and came across her name. She always had a passion for food and could turn the college staple of top ramen and peanut butter and jelly into a meal fit for a king. Timing for us, was our enemy from the start. Madeline had just started college and I was on my way out. Still, we made the best of it, promised to keep in touch once I moved and figured we’d run into each other someday in the future.
We never kept in touch and it’s now the future.
My reservation for Maddy’s Tavern was for the latest possible time. I did this for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted the restaurant to be as empty or quiet as possible because I wanted to take in her accomplishments without the hustle and bustle of a packed place. Two, I wanted personal attention from