Chapter 88: Sick

EMMA

We ate in silence. Or rather, Noah ate, and I poked at the food in front of me, which included breaded eggplant, despite my request. At least there wasn't any cheese on top, so I was able to try some of the pasta and sauce. My stomach was rebelling, though; between the audience around us, the tension of our conversation and the food issues, I wasn't feeling well at all. I'd just managed to choke down a few bites when Noah tossed down his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

"Fuck!" he muttered, staring out the window. "I was afraid of that."

"What is it?" I was afraid to look outside. "What's wrong?"

"That woman from the bar-she said she saw us on social media. So did some reporters, I guess, because there's a group of them at the door to the restaurant."

Any appetite I'd had disappeared. "What are we going to do?"