“Initially? Oh, about four years ago. But it was a slow, permanent change. The gluten-free phase was a big moment for my eating habits, though. I didn’t need an overhaul. I just needed to be more responsible with whole foods.”
I sat back in my chair, genuinely uncomfortable with the caricature I’d made of him over the last several years. Not that he hadn’t had his moments. But God, had I ever given him any credit? Or had I always just assumed the worst?
“I feel like I have no idea who you are,” I told him honestly. “I... I—”
“I hurt you, Ada,” he said gently. “That gives you some wiggle room to make assumptions about me.” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the inside of my wrist. “But I’d like you to get to know me now. If that’s okay. And I want to keep getting to know you. I want... I want to give this a real shot.”
“Like dating?” I asked breathless, my heart in my throat.
He nodded, his fingers tightening against mine. “Yeah, dating.”
I grasped for sarcasm. “Well, let’s see how tonight goes first, yeah? I mean, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I might not even like you. You clearly have terrible taste in sushi, for one.”
Which was a lie. He’d taken me to the best sushi spot in Durham. This place would literally live in infamy in my brain. And I might go bankrupt eating here every day for the next year.
A smile worked its way across his mouth. “All right. Challenge accepted.”
The sushi arrived then. Clean lines of white rice rolled with whitefish and tempura fried shrimp and more wagyu with fresh veggies and ponzu and eel sauces and one that had a spectacular sundried tomato something in the middle. Everything was to die for. We left laughing and full and light from sake.
He took me next door and down a set of dingy stairs to a basement bar that had all the egress windows open. A band warmed up on stage, and the waitstaff took orders for prohibition-style cocktails. Each table had a red candle lit in the middle and faced the stage.
He ordered us whiskey sours from a bartender who knew him by name, then took my hand and led me to a table in the corner. He tucked his chair in close to mine and pointed out some cute things about the old bar and its history. Then the band started playing, and we had to shout over the music.
But we did. We kept talking and kept enjoying the cool tones of old-school jazz. We kept enjoying our cocktails. Nothing was awkward or strained about it. He made me laugh, and he made me think about things differently. He saw the world in a different light than I did. And I loved comparing our two perspectives. I simply loved talking to him. Spending time with him. Getting to know this gorgeous, thoughtful, interesting man.
I found myself leaning into him as the night wore on. I just wanted to be as close to him as possible. He made me laugh. He made me think. He made me feel seen. He made me... want.
The band announced they were taking a break, and the atmosphere settled down to murmurs and tinkling laughter. The demographic here was older than Craft, which made it mellow and elegant. The drinks were refined but not showy. The servers were well-versed on the menu. And while all the tables were full, no one was crammed into corners or aisles. It was actually a really nice break from our usual chaos.
Charlie waved at someone over my shoulder, and I only had enough time to remember Steve and get nervous before he arrived at our table.
“Hey,” Charlie said with a grin. “You sound great tonight.”
As Charlie had said, Steve was a man in his sixties. He had a great head of white hair and laugh lines around his mouth. I’d noticed him immediately. Mostly because Charlie had mentioned he played the bass. But also because I caught him mouthing a conversation with Charlie. He’d asked, “Is that her?” And then given Charlie a discreet thumbs-up.
I immediately liked him.
But now he was looking at me like he was trying to figure me out. Like I was a puzzle to be solved. Like I needed his approval.
“Charlie, it’s good to see you, my boy.” Steve slapped Charlie on the shoulder before pulling a chair over to our tiny table and joining us.
“Happy to be here,” Charlie told him, then gestured to me. “This is Ada.” Then to me, “Ada, this is Steve.”
We shook hands over the small candle, and he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ada. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My cheeks flushed at the way his piercing eyes assessed me across the small space. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. Charlie’s right; you guys sound great.”
His mouth lifted into a genuine smile. “Well, make sure you mention that to everyone around you.” He tilted his head toward the stage. “Also mention the tip jar, if you don’t mind.”
Charlie laughed at his joke, and I watched bemused at them both. It was clear how much they liked each other. And I had to admit Steve was likable. And not anything like the guys Charlie had brought around in the past.
“Do you have a drink?” Charlie asked Steve.
“Oh, she’ll come around in a minute,” he answered.
“No worries.” Charlie jumped to his feet. “I’ll grab us another round. Manhattan?”
Steve nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
