A flat boat with instruments for a band floats on a large rectangular pool smack dab in the middle of the room. The boat sways as the musicians on stage play a soft melody I can’t quite pick up. We stop at a table separated from the water by a small bamboo rail and I wait while Trey pulls out my chair. He hasn’t spoken, but I also haven’t missed him watching my reactions to the place. It’s not until his hand reaches out toward the water and comes back wet that I notice there’s a small rain storm being simulated on the edges of the pool.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
I might be in slight awe as I sit. “Like it? I love it.” I look over the railing and see rocks attached to the pool wall with large thick ropes.
“I thought it would remind us of our first night at the tiki bar.”
I remove my eyes from the water and gauge his face. “You mean our first meeting?” I reference the almost neutering I gave him. “Or the more enjoyable second meeting?"
He laughs. “Both.”
The waitress takes our drink order and I use her distraction as a chance to open my menu. While every action from this gorgeous faced man is calm and maybe a little calculated, I’m a mess. I might be tall, but his presence alone engulfs my space when he’s near. My nerves increased during our silent walk and now I can’t think of a single thing to say. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with Trey.
“What are you going to order?” he asks from his side of the small square table.
“Um, I don’t know.” I scan the menu again and try to read some of the selections this time. “Let me guess, you’re getting the steak?” I peek my face over the tall menu and smile at him.
“Of course. You should try it.”
“Okay.” I give in without any fight and cringe, thankful Marissa isn’t here to see how bad I am at making him work for it.
Our table is small so our legs and knees are mushed up in the space between us. After a few more seconds of footsie, we settle into a comfortable position of his knee, my knee, his knee, my knee. It takes mere minutes before I realize there is way too much knee touching going on for me to remain unaware of it for the rest of the meal.
Our waitress returns at the perfect time, right before I made a ridiculous comment about how warm Trey’s knee is against mine. I don’t even want to know how he’d respond.
Trey takes my menu. “Give us an order of the sweet potato fries and two filet mignons.” He stops and turns his head to me. “Do you like mushrooms?"
“You don’t know?” I cock my head and smile with faux innocence at him while blinking more times than I need to.
He raises an eyebrow at my gesture but then turns back to the waitress. “I’m taking that as a yes, so two filet mignons with the sautéed mushrooms, please.”
The waitress leaves and I fiddle with my water straw to fill the silence with movement not words. The band plays from their floating stage and the smell of cooked meat has me excited for this steak, even if I’m not ready to admit it yet.
Trey looks up from where he’d been watching the band with me. “I hoped you’d like it, but there’s one detail the place is missing.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
He smirks. “Cat cups.”
My smile increases as I remember the plastic cup still packed away in my kitchen box now in a corner of Aspen’s bedroom. He might not have kept his, but the fact he fondly remembers something from our time before San Francisco is encouraging.
“No. They wouldn’t fit the décor here at all. This place is too high class. They’re dog people all the way.”
“Dogs are classier than cats?”
“Absolutely, one of those Italian grey hounds. Very regal.” I sip at my water with the straw on the side of my mouth.
“I’m not sure an Italian grey hound can pull off tiki quite like a tabby can.”
I laugh at his rebuttal and try to think of another option, but as Trey’s happy face falls into something stern, my nervous butterflies start up again.
“The tiki bar isn’t the only reason I asked you to dinner tonight.”
“Yeah?” I can’t form more words than the simple response.
“I went home Wednesday night feeling horrible. I’d been so pissed at you for refusing to talk to me, but you were losing a job and burying your mother. It kind of makes all my issues a bit smaller in comparison, you know?”
I go back to pulling my straw in and out of my drink so I’m not required to make eye contact. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel guilty." Now I feel really stupid about crying in front of him.
