Holden waits while I tuck my phone into my purse and slide my feet into a pair of wedge sandals. Once I’ve locked the door behind me, I lace my fingers with his and tug him closer. His confusion melts when I stretch up to kiss him gently. His chuckle ghosts across my face, his fingers soft against my skin as he pushes a curl aside.
“That’s supposed to happen at the end of the night,” he whispers.
“Well, don’t be so gorgeous, and I won’t wanna kiss you every second of every day.”
Gentleman that he is, Holden holds the car door open for me, closes it once I settle into the passenger seat, and I watch him round the car. The interior of the vehicle fills with the scent of his cologne almost instantly after he slides in behind the wheel, and I breathe it in. Something inside of me calms.
“Ash settle in okay?” I ask, and Holden nods as he starts the car.
“Yeah. He was a little upset he couldn’t come with us, but Henry distracted him easily with blocks. I barely got a hug from the little guy before he was off.”
“I’m glad he’s okay with this. Youdidtell Phil and Samantha thank you for this, right?”
“Of course I did.” Holden turns his head to meet my gaze for a quick second then focuses on the road again. “Dealla… I understand you’re nervous about leaving him while we go on this date, but please try to relax. Ashton loves Phil, Sam, and Henry, and they love him, too. Phil will call if there are any problems. So, deep breath, yeah?”
“Deep breath. Right.” Exhaling sharply, I squeeze his forearm, smile at him. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is only the, like, second time I’ve ever let someone else watch him, outside of Tristan and Luci, and that was just so I could go to the interview.”
“I understand, sweetheart, but tonight is about us.”
I give a slow nod and will away the butterflies that flutter violently in my gut. I think I have reason to be nervous—it’s the last night we have together before Holden leaves for New York. He’d promised filming the music video won’t take more than a few days, but I know anything can go wrong. He could be delayed for any reason. So I want to send him off with a pleasant memory of our—
“Holy shit,” I breathe, and Holden glances at me. “This is our first date.”
He freezes, knuckles straining against skin, then huffs out an incredulous laugh. “It is, isn’t it.”
“Almost an entire year, and we’re just now getting to the whole ‘date’ thing.”
“In our defense, we were sleeping together before we made us a thing.” He exhales slowly, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“So’m I.”
Holden parks in the lot of a brick-faced building that stands two stories tall. Afternoon sunlight stretches across wide windows, golden swathes of light sparkling off the glass. Early blossoms dance and shiver in their wooden boxes lining the sidewalk, and a hanging basket of violets by the door sways slightly in the breeze. I smile at the pretty picture it all makes then follow Holden’s cue to exit the vehicle.
Hand wrapping around mine, Holden leads me to the front door—at the top of two concrete steps, a heavy wooden thing surrounding dimpled glass—then inside. The sunlight doesn’t extend here. Instead, it’s dim but cheerful, candles on every table illuminating the space with wicks holding merry flames. The walls are the same dark-washed brick as outside and decorated with metal artwork. Strands of tiny delicate lights line the tops of the walls, wrap around the banister of the wide stairwell, twinkle in the darkness at the top of the stairs.
Holden gives his name to a man dressed in all black, a man who nods and grabs two menus before leading us upstairs. The sturdy door looks identical to its downstairs counterpart, and it swings outwards to expose a terrace dotted with tables. Each is made of the same heavy wood stained black and surrounded by wrought iron chairs. Pastel umbrellas stand tall, ready to cast shade over the midday diners, but it’s evening, so the umbrellas are purely decorative.
The man gestures toward a table closest to the balustrade, another wrought iron thing that swirls and collects in raindrop-shaped petals of metal. Holden pulls out my seat, waits until I sit, then helps me scoot the chair closer to the table. Once Holden has taken his seat, the host sets the menus on the table and bows slightly before disappearing. I turn my attention to the world around us. The historic downtown surrounds them in its proud glory, brick facades blending from one building to the next.
A soft breeze smooths across my skin, and I close my eyes at the tranquility of this moment. Someone clears their throat from off to the side; I turn my head, open my eyes, to see a black-clad woman with wild blonde hair. The woman jots down our drink order—a white wine for Holden, a red for me—then heads back inside. Holden is smiling softly, a tender thing, when I focus on him.
“You look really beautiful tonight,” he says, and I feel my cheeks begin to burn. “I…”
But he doesn’t finish the sentence. I am afraid of what he might have wanted to say. Instead, he coughs quietly and fidgets with the edge of his cloth napkin. A moment later, he gives me a crooked smile.
“So what were you like in school?”
I let out a low chuckle and shake my head. “Really quiet, mostly. Kept to myself, though I was in an art club and student council. Treasurer. Managed to set the curve for my History exams every year without studying.”
“Nerd.”
“Absolutely,” I reply with a laugh. “If you can believe it, I was also a cheerleader.”
Holden pauses, a laugh barking from his chest. “No way.”
“Yep! There wasn’t a gymnastics team, and I completely sucked at band. So I went out for cheer.”
“I can actually kinda see it,” he says after a short pause in which his gaze tracks over my body. “You’ve kept in good shape since then.”
