“I’ve already eaten. I’m just going to have another glass of wine. She’d like coffee,” he said to the waitress.
We sat in companionable silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the lights of the bookstore go dark. “Oh, shit,” I said. “What time is it?”
“After eight,” he replied. “Your friend is going home, so now you’re alone with me. You aren’t going to turn into a mouse or a pumpkin or some other damned thing and leave me sitting here with nothing in my hands but a glass slipper, are you?”
I laughed. “No, I’m afraid that you’re stuck with plain old me.”