Their entrees arrived.The pasta was fragrant with white wine and garlic, the osso buco was falling off the bone.They sampled both dishes.
“This is incredible,” Sam said after her first bite of the linguine.
“Right?”Aiden looked pleased.“That’s the grandmother’s recipe.She won’t share it with anyone.Her son’s been trying to get it out of her for twenty years.”
They ate and talked, the conversation flowing easily from teaching stories to books to Sam’s complicated relationship with her parents.
“They weren’t neglectful,” Sam said, twirling pasta on her fork.“Just distracted.They were very passionate about their work.Both of them were artists.But they were less passionate about things like parent-teacher conferences and regular meals.”
“Is that why you’re so organized now?”
“Probably,” said Sam.“Someone had to make sure we had groceries and that bills got paid.I was making lists by age seven.They were color-coded by nine.”
“Is it your way of keeping chaos at bay?”
Sam paused, her fork halfway to her mouth.“That’s surprisingly insightful.”
“Former detective.We’re trained to notice patterns.”He reached across the table, his hand covering hers.“But you know what else I’ve noticed?You’re happiest when you’re helping people, not just organizing things.It seems to be your purpose.”
“When did you get so good at reading me?”asked Sam.
“I’ve been paying attention.”His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.“Someone had to.”
The simple honesty made her chest tighten.She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers through.“Thank you,” she said quietly.”
“For what?”
“For being patient.For not pushing.For bringing me here and understanding.”
“Sam.”His voice was soft.“That’s just being here for you.That’s what this is.”
They finished dinner and ordered the tiramisu despite Aiden’s warning about not sharing dessert (they shared it anyway).Then they lingered over some coffee until the restaurant began to empty around them.
“I should probably get you home,” Aiden said reluctantly.“Even though I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want you to, either.”
They drove back through the quiet streets of Sunset Ridge.In the neighborhood, they passed Nora’s house on the way.It was all lit up from the outside and inside.“She’s probably watching from her window right now,” said Sam wryly.
“Definitely.”
When they pulled up to Sam’s house, she could see Arlo’s face pressed against the window, tail wagging.
“Can I walk you to your door?”
“I’d like that,” said Sam.
They stood on her porch, the night air cool but not uncomfortable.Through the window, Arlo had started doing his welcome-home dance.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Sam said.
“Me too.”Aiden’s hand came up to cup her cheek.“Can we do this again?Soon?Maybe without the cloud of double homicide hanging over us?”
“I’d like that.Though, given my track record, I can’t promise no dead bodies.”
“Fair enough.”He smiled, then gently kissed her.Soft and sweet and full of promise.
When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, Sam leaned her forehead against his.“You should probably go before Nora comes over to investigate.”
