Wendy, the owner of Wild Rose, is my sister's friend. I already texted her to open the store for us. Gwen doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going book shopping.
“This is us,” I say as my usual driver pulls up.
I open the door for Gwen and let her get in first.
“Hey, Josh,” I greet as I slide in on the other side. “Could you take us to Black Pearl Restaurant, please?”
Josh confirms the destination.
“Do you know every taxi driver in this city?” Gwen laughs, and I chuckle with her.
“Josh is my driver. I’m one of his favorite clients. Right, Josh?” I ask.
“My favorite ice hockey player client, sure,” he replies with a laugh, glancing at Gwen through the rearview mirror and giving her a wink.
“Of course you have a driver,” she sighs, smiling.
“Do you drive?” I ask, shifting the conversation.
“I drive the delivery van for our bakery sometimes,” she says. “When we have events or special orders like wedding cakes.”
The way she talks about the bakery pulls something in me. I already knew from Leo that Tess is passionate, but hearing Gwen talk about it makes it clear this place means just as much to her.
“That’s incredible. I’m sure you’re always busy,” I say.
She nods, a hint of pride in her expression. “You haven’t tried enough of our pastries yet. Maybe you should come by more often.”
I smile. “I’d like that.”
A few minutes later, we arrive at the restaurant. I step out and open the door for her.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Born ready,” she replies with a grin.
The restaurant is packed. The moment we step inside, a few heads turn in our direction. I try to ignore it, but the familiar weight of attention settles in. I force myself to focus on Gwen instead.
“If you feel uncomfortable at any point, let me know, ok?” I ask.
“As long as you do the same,” she replies, and I smile.
“Do you come here often?” she asks.
“This is my favorite restaurant in all of Chicago. It was the first place I came to after the Grizzlies drafted me. Maybe it’s nostalgia, but the food is incredible too, I promise,” I say, a hint of pride in my voice as she scans the menu.
“This is going to be hard,” Gwen chuckles. “Everything on here sounds good.”
“Then we order everything,” I say lightly.
She looks up at me, surprised.
“Ok, not everything,” I add with a small laugh. “But I know the chef. Maybe we can ask him to put together a tasting platter or something.”
“Isn’t that a lot of extra work for them?” she asks.
Something about that question softens me even more toward her. How is that the first thing she thinks of?
“You’re a special woman,” I say.
