At the table, the manager cocks his head to the side and waits for us to sit with a smile on his face. “I have a surprise for you, sir. Seeing as your wife has never experienced our food before, may I suggest that the chef be allowed to put together a tasting platter of the best items on the menu? It will be a culinary adventure. One not easily forgotten.”
He glances eagerly between my wife and me.
“What would you like?” I ask Georgie.
“That sounds like exactly what I want,” she nods enthusiastically.
“And a bottle of champagne. You know which one I enjoy,” I add.
“Yes, sir.” He bows his head and leaves us.
I reach beneath the table and pull Georgie’s chair closer to me. I’m tired of having her sit on the opposite side of our dinner table at home. I want her as close to me as possible.
“He knows which champagne you like?” She says, a hint of curious caution in her voice.
“Yes, he does,” I answer warily, narrowing my eyes and trying to figure out why it might be an issue for her.
“Is this where you bring all of your dates?” Her voice is laced with jealousy.
I burst out laughing, then quickly shut my mouth, shaking my head. “No, little one. I don’t go on dates. I don’t have time for things like that,” I chuckle.
“Mm. Yet, here you are, on a date with me,” she muses, pleased with my answer.
“Well, when a man has an opportunity to take the most beautiful woman in the world out for dinner, he would be a fool not to clear a little, tiny bit of space in his schedule.”
“A tiny bit?” she giggles.
“Yes, not a lot. We don’t want to take it too far,” I tease.
“Of course, we can’t have you neglecting your duties,” she says with a serious tone.
If only she knew what I’d give to never leave her side.
Dinner is perfect.
We laugh, we talk, we share silly stories, and tease each other. The conversation flows easily in lighthearted, perfect moments. I’m happier than I can ever remember being.
I can’t believe how incredible my life is since she became a more involved part of it. And I can’t help but wonder how much more I can have with her when this issue with my father is sorted out.
After dinner, we walk down to the car, my arm locked around her waist, and she pulled tight against me. “It’s seven now. I was hoping to take you to one more special place before we head home. Would that be alright?” I ask, already knowing she’ll say yes because she is having as much fun as I am.
“I’m sure I can spare a tiny bit of time in my schedule for one more place,” she giggles.
My heart beats faster, loving every moment, every tease, every second I get to spend with her.
I pull the car door open for her and watch as her dress falls open at the slit when she climbs inside. She notices my eyes wandering over her legs, and all she does is smile.
I hurry around to my side of the car, climbing in, and pulling my door closed.
“It’s not as fancy as this place, but it has a certain magic to it,” I tell her, starting the car. “Along the street with all the cocktail bars, there is a little food truck that has the most amazing butterscotch pancakes. I love ordering a few and then walking through the bubble of people and looking at the colorful lights. It’s far better than getting drunk in one of the nightclubs, and you still get to feel the energy of this city at night.”
“I also love walking down that street at night, but I’ve never had the pleasure of one of those butterscotch pancakes.” She wiggles excitedly.
“Well, I’m glad I can be the first…” I wink at her. “To have a butterscotch pancakes with you.”
“Oh, I’msurethat’s what you meant. Myfirst.” She shakes her head, amused, but blushing beautifully.
I turn a corner, and instantly the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something isn’t right here. My eyes scan the dimly lit street, my heart beginning to race.
