Don’t be late ;)
Chapter Nine
TAG
Ican’t remember the last time I’ve been so nervous for a first date. I don’t even think I was this nervous for my first date with my wife.
Maybe that was the downfall of our marriage.
But it’s the furthest thing from my mind as I fasten the last button on my dark blue shirt and tuck it into my black slacks. Complete with a fresh hair trim, I hope I look good. I even cleaned up my scruff so I’m ready for tonight.
I’m pulling out all the stops for Liv.
I have a feeling if I don’t, she won’t appreciate it. Even if she wouldn’t let me pick her up. Settling to meet her at the restaurant was a compromise I didn’t mind making for this night to happen.
I had to confer with Jack and Alfie about the best places in London. At least with them living here, they know these things.
Never would have pegged either of them for knowing a fancy French place, but I’ll take it.
A cool wind moves around me, leaves crunching undermy feet. The sun sinks lower in the sky as it crawls toward the horizon.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I pick up my pace when the small restaurant comes into view. A green and white awning stretches over the sidewalk with a few café tables with patrons sitting close together.
But I’m stopped dead in my tracks when I see the woman standing outside waiting for me.
Checking my watch, I make sure I’m not late. Nope, ten minutes early.
Olivia looks stunning in skin-tight black jeans and a white camisole top with a bright pink blazer. I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Damn, Liv. You look gorgeous.” I lean in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She smells even better. Like a bouquet of fresh flowers.
“Hi. You look nice,” she tells me. Her appraising gaze wanders down my body. It makes me glad I put in the extra effort with how I look tonight.
Not that she minded me at the pub, but I want this date to go well.
“Thanks.”
Opening the door to the restaurant, I place my hand at the small of her back and guide her inside.
Fresh baked bread. Herbs. Wine.
Everything smells delicious.
After giving the hostess my name, we’re led through a maze of tables. The entire space is crammed full. People are rubbing elbows against the wall as we squeeze into one of the empty tables between two other couples.
“What do you think?” I ask Liv, taking the menu after helping her with her seat.
“Do you fancy French food?” she asks, eyes focused down on the menu.
“I thought you’d like it.”
The man at the table next to us stands, bumping into ours and nearly knocking over the candle and water glasses. We’re packed in tighter than sardines.
After discussing the date with Jack and Alfie, they agreed that something nicer would be best. And since my knowledge of good places to take a date in London is approximately zero, I trusted their judgment.
“Umm, Tag?”
“Yeah?”
