“Surreal.”
Instead of heading to the truck after signing the documents, Alex directed me down the street. I teased her fingers with mine as we strolled until she finally pressed her palm up to mine and interlocked our fingers.
“Where are we going, by the way?”
“I made some dinner reservations. I hope that’s okay. I just… thought we could celebrate, if the place was everything I wanted, or commiserate if it wasn’t. I lucked out that they had an opening. It’s not a date or anything.”
“I understand. It sounds nice, actually.”
I wasn’t going to complain about the mid-stiffness that refused to die down in my pants or the fact that she was going to sit across from me with my knowing she wasn’t wearing any panties. It was going to be the worst kind of torture.
“There’s a new restaurant I’ve been dying to try. One of the chefs on the food channel Colton works with came to visit for the engagement party. Story goes he fell in love with the town and decided to open a restaurant here. Apparently, it reminded him of where he grew up.”
“Really? That’s pretty cool.”
“I mean, it’s probably nothing compared to the places you’ve been wined and dined in California.”
I didn’t care for the way she sneered at the thought of me having money. She said it jokingly, but I could sense her annoyance. It made me think about the maid comment her brother said at the bar last night.
“You’re right. I bet it’s even better. I hate those stuffy places,” I explained as she stopped in front of a nondescript brick building. It was separate from the rest of the block, as if it had been a home in a past life.
Inside, the space resembled the same as the outside. A lot of exposed brick and dark wood. Gas-style lamps hung from the ceilings. The place felt quaint and cozy. Once the hostess took Alex’s name, she ushered us out of the foyer and through a hallway before turning into a room with three other tables. I could hear other guests chattering in the restaurant, but as we sat down, it felt like it was just the two of us under the dim light.
As the hostess set down our menus, I read the name of the restaurant within the embossment of gold filigree—Roland’s. Recognition was immediate. He’d been a star on The Food Channel for decades.
“Holy shit. You didn’t say this was Roland McEntire’s restaurant.”
For a moment, she worried her lip as she picked up the menu. “Is that okay? I should have asked. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s…. Wow, Roland McEntire. I ate at his flagship in New York a few years back. I still dream about that elk he served.”
Alex’s eyes widened as she scanned the menu. I could already tell she was going to settle for a salad or soup. When there were no prices listed, it usually meant everything was expensive. Which surprised me that the restaurant was still in business and clearly packed, but I imagined people came from all over to eat here.
“Get whatever you want, Alex. I’m treating you.”
“No. You absolutely are not. I invited you.”
“You invited me to celebrate. And as my thank-you for showing me the new shop, I want to buy your meal.”
She continued to argue until I told her that the salad was probably going to cost around fifty dollars and she had a new lease to pay for soon.
“This still isn’t a date.”
“Of course not,” I told her as the server stepped up to our table, and I ordered a bottle of champagne, the real stuff, to toast to Alex.
She was reluctant to take the first sip, saying it cost too much, but she relented and complimented me on the selection. When the server returned, Alex surprised me again and allowed me to choose her meal.
It was something so simple. Only my daughters allowed me to pick out what they ate. Sasha would have scoffed if I ordered anything that wasn’t a wedge of lettuce.
When the meal arrived, the tender filet mignon I ordered for Alex left her moaning in the chair across from me. The elk I ordered was even better than the restaurant’s in New York. À la carte style, they brought out sautéed asparagus and scalloped potatoes along with a variety of sauces for our entrees.
We talked through the rest of the meal. Lighthearted conversations about the twins’ birthday at the end of summer and if they were excited to start school. I’d gone online that morning and registered them for kindergarten, and I may have shed a tear.
I handed the server my black American Express card without even seeing the bill. Alex’s pinched expression bothered me.
“Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”
Her hair swung around her shoulders as she shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just something I remember from a while ago.”
