Then again, I hadn’t had any reason to scout romantic restaurants in Prescott.
But it was delicious food, locally sourced with a busy, bustling vibe that I enjoyed.
And it was bustling, so how Dair scored a table inside was a miracle.
We sat. We ordered drinks. We perused the menu. We ordered food.
As the server was leaving, Dair turned a serious face to me.
Damn.
Here we go.
But he led into it sweet. “We have a lot to talk about, baby.”
I cleared my throat and asked, “Like what?”
“We can start with what you said to me at the rehearsal dinner.”
So much had happened since then, I didn’t remember what I said.
Then it hit me.
Shit.
“You were kind of a jerk to me growing up, Dair,” I pointed out.
“You were a prissy wee miss, Blake. As a young lad, it’s a moral imperative to be a jerk to a prissy wee miss.”
For a second, I sat stunned.
Then I busted out laughing.
I only stopped when Dair rumbled, “Jesus Christ.”
He was staring at me like…
Like…
I didn’t know.
But it felt great.
So I asked, “What?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But when you laugh, I see a wee bit of that little girl I knew, except she isn’t unhappy like she was always unhappy.”
I was utterly shocked he thought I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
I was not unaware of what I looked like. I knew I was attractive.
But he’d dated models and actresses (and, I’d noted, had one particularly long stint with a pop star).
It was the “always unhappy” thing that freaked me.
“I wasn’t always unhappy,” I denied.
“Lass, I think we can validate and set aside the fact your mum was a shit mum.”
