I slipped into my suit and took a deep breath tonight. I feel great in this suit. I don’t have a tie on, and the crewneck knit shirt underneath keeps it looking casually sophisticated, but the tailored pants and jacket and the Italian leather shoes are impeccable.
“How nice?” she asks as I turn down the street that will lead out to the highway while avoiding Main Street. The last thing I need is everyone looking out the front window of Perks and Rec and watching us go.
“Really nice. Italian. It has fantastic reviews and looks gorgeous inside. It’s on the edge of the French Quarter. It’s called the Italian Barrel. Have you been there?”
Her eyes widen. “No.” She looks down and smooths her dress over her lap. “I’m not dressed for a place like that, Alex. Can we go somewhere else?”
I look over, scanning her from perky head to cute blue toes. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Nora. You’re dressed perfectly.”
“I’m not.” She laughs. “This dress is very casual. I can wear it to church, and a few places for dinner in New Orleans, but certainly not white tablecloth restaurants. It’s four years old.”
I reach over and snag her hand, threading our fingers together. “You look amazing. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “How many forks are there going to be?”
I chuckle. “What?”
“I know fancy restaurants use lots of different forks. That’s not the kind of place I’m used to. At Bruce’s we keep the same fork from salad to dessert.”
I shoot her a smile. “Probably one for salad, another for the entree, and another for dessert. But it will be obvious which is which. I promise we’ll get through it.” I look over at her again. “Tonight it’s just about spending time together. I just want to treat you. Please don’t worry.”
I didn’t think about any of this. Yes, I thought about taking her somewhere nicer than she’s used to. Nicer than Bruce’s. Nicer than a place that would serve her fried catfish and gumbo. But I hadn’t thought about whether she'd be comfortable or not. She seems so easy going and is clearly beloved by all kinds of people so she seems comfortable in various situations and settings.
But shewill becomfortable. I’ll be sure of it. Five-star dining is simply about learning. I’ve always known about the different forks and how to place my napkin and multiple courses. It was simply how I was raised. My mother loves elaborate feasts and dining is always an event. But I’ve been around plenty of teammates who come from simpler backgrounds who needed to learn. It’s fun to teach people about different cuisines and give them new experiences. Just like I had to learn about frozen pizza and that chicken wings should never be eaten with utensils. No one should feel strange or uncomfortable when it comes to new foods or about eating in new places.
She doesn’t pull her hand away and I enjoy the feel of her hand in mine. “So I’ve now met your grandfathers, cousins, friends…what about your parents? How will they feel about us dating? Will I meet them?” I ask as we turn onto the highway.
“Oh.”
Her quiet, one word answer pulls my eyes from the road to her. She’s staring out the windshield with a slight frown.
“Nora?”
She looks at me. “I haven’t been asked about my parents in so long…” She gives me a little smile. “Everyone knows all aboutthem in Rebel, so no one talks about them. And the guys I’ve dated knew the story. I honestly haven’t actually told anyone…this…in…” She frowns again. “I was trying to figure out if I’ve ever actually told anyone.”
I shift on the seat. Dammit. Clearly this isn’t a ‘you can have dinner with us on Sunday’ situation. What did I stir up here?
“You’ve always dated guys from Rebel?” I ask, distracted by that piece of information as much as whatever this story about her parents is.
“Yes. Well, two of the three. The other was here for a while before we went out so he must have asked someone else.” She pauses. “Or maybe he didn’t care.” She says that last part almost thoughtfully, as if that’s just occurring to her.
She dated a guy who didn’t care about her parents? What?
“You’ve only dated three men?” I’m aware I’m getting off track but I’m definitely interested in this too.
She nods. “Yeah. They were all long-term and pretty serious though.”
I don’t respond to that, focusing on the road.
I decide to repair my reputation in this town and pick the woman who is basically everyone’s granddaughter and who only gets involved in long-term serious relationships?Great job, Olsen. Really great.
“So, um, anyway, my mom isn’t around and I never knew my dad.”
That jerks my attention away from pondering if my luck is really truly horrible…or really amazing despite myself.
“Oh,” I answer stupidly, looking at her.
She shrugs. “My mom got pregnant with me during her first semester of college. It was just a fling. They dated but it wasn’t serious and he was relieved when she told him she didn’t want to get married or anything. So, he was off the hook and I’ve nevermet him. She didn’t even have any photos of him. I think his first name was Carter. Or Conner. Something like that.”
