Page 160 of Reckless
He looked back without apology.“I said no props.I did not say I was incapable of making reservations.”
“That feels like business negotiations.”
He pulled out my chair.
I sat and he sat across from me.
This was it, just him and me and a real date now.
For one weird, lovely second all I could do was look at him.He noticed, naturally.
“What?”
I smiled.“Nothing.”
“That’s never true with you.”
“No, but this time it’s close.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with that same unbearable attention he always gave me, only now there was something lighter in it.
He ordered wine.I let him.We shared burrata and warm bread and then two pastas because he claimed choosing only one would be emotionally restrictive and I laughed hard enough that the table next to us looked over and then smiled to themselves.
It felt simple and good and easy.
The way he sat in an unpretentious restaurant and looked just as much himself as he did in the compound or his office.
The way he listened all the way through my stories instead of waiting for his turn or how he made me laugh with these quick, dry little comments that felt private even in public or the way his face shifted when I spoke about things I cared about, like he was storing the details on purpose.
All of that was what sold me that we could be real.
We could be happy together.
He would pour my tea right and remember which pasta I liked best and argue with me about stupid things in bed and on beaches and in grocery stores and probably in front of his entire family.I would tell him when he was being impossible and he would say good in that voice and I would hate and love it in equal measure.He would stand with me in quiet rooms and look at me like I mattered in them.I would make his life warmer, noisier, more alive.
We could be happy and even a family.I could actually see the life and not only the romance.
Halfway through the meal, he said, “You’re staring at me.”
“You say that like I should stop.”
“You should not stop.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Because I like knowing you’re doing it.”
I smiled into my wine.“You are unusually attractive tonight.”
“Unusually?”
“Well, no.Annoyingly consistent.”
One side of his mouth moved.“That sounded almost like praise.”
“It was.”
“Good.”
