“And we’ll get a plate of the oysters to start.”
Marcus sets his menu down and turns his attention back to me. “Can I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You’ve already told me that.”
“I believe I told you that you look delicious. Not beautiful.”
I duck my head below my menu, trying to hide my blush. Being under Marcus’s penetrating stare has butterflies threatening to burst out of me.
“Don’t hide from me.” Marcus pulls the flimsy paper out of my hand. His calloused hand settles over mine on the table.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had any kind of attention like this,” I admit. “Not from anyone that mattered anyway.”
“Does that mean I matter to you?”
“Yes,” I confess. I couldn’t hide the truth from him if I wanted. Marcus was always able to read me like an open book. I never shied away from him. I think it’s why we connected and fell in love so easily.
“You matter to me too, Harper.”
Marcus’s thumb is brushing over the top of my hand, making me want to tell him everything he has missed out on over the last seven years. But that’s not really first date conversation.
“Can I confess something?” I whisper.
“Always.”
“I was nervous about tonight. It’s not really a first date, right?”
Marcus shakes his head, hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Hard to have a first date when you’re married.”
I smile at him. “And when you’ve had countless other dates together.”
“Maybe we can call it a…” Marcus trails off, thinking. “Help me out. What can we call this instead of a first date?”
“A rendezvous?” I answer, but Marcus shakes his head.
“Seems like it’s a one-off when you call it that.”
“Good to know.”
The waiter sets down a tray of oysters and our drinks. “Can I place your dinner orders?”
“I’ll have the salmon,” I tell him.
“Make it two.” Marcus hands over the menus and grabs our drinks. “What shall we toast to?”
“To us.”
Marcus smiles. The genuine one that he always saved just for me. The one that came so easily. The one that I loved so much.
“To us,” he parrots.
I sip on my rosé, letting the cool bubbles bounce on my tongue. Marcus takes the cocktail fork on the tray of oysters and digs the meat out of the shell.
“Want a bite?” He holds it up to me.
Setting my glass down, I lean over and close my mouth around the tines. Marcus’s eyes are wide as a soft moan escapes me.
“So good. Care to try one?” I take the fork from him, but before I can do anything else, Marcus slants his mouth over mine.
