Page 124 of The Grumpy Defenseman
Not claimed like property.
Named like truth.
“Good,” I said.
She smiled faintly. “That’s it?”
“No. But if I say more, you’re going to make fun of me for being emotionally literate before the appetizers.”
“I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Probably,” she admitted.
Dinner came. We ate slowly, which was not something I did often. Food in my life had mostly been fuel. Calories arranged around work.
This was not that.
This was Sam stealing one of my peppers and pretending she had not. This was her laughing when I let her do it twice and stopped her on the third. When the waiter asked about dessert, she said yes before he finished the question.
Across the room, someone glanced at us, looked away, then looked back again.
Sam saw it.
So did I.
I waited for my body to lock down.
It did not.
The man whispered something to the woman beside him. She turned, smiled once, and went back to her meal.
That was all.
No phone. No damage.
Sam’s thumb moved once over the back of my hand where it restedon the table.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
I meant it.
Her eyes softened in a way that made me want things I was not going to say in the middle of a restaurant.
We left after dessert and walked toward the River Walk.
The night had cooled. Not much, but enough that Sam moved a little closer when we reached the steps down to the water. I put my hand at the small of her back because the stone was uneven and because I wanted to touch her.
Both things were true.
She knew both things were true.
The river was crowded enough to feel alive but not so crowded that we had to fight for space. Tour boats moved under the bridges. Music drifted from somewhere behind us. Cypress branches leaned over the water, black against the restaurant lights.
Sam walked beside me without rushing.
