We’re going to Uchi, one of our favorite spots in town, where it’s nearly impossible to snag a table at all, let alone on the day of. It’s fancy, and expensive, and delicious—it really does sound amazing, but if I’m being honest? The idea of going just with Jonathan and Abby makes me feel like I’d be imposing on a date, not to mention how extra aware I’ll be that my own personal date of choice lives two time zones away.
“You’re sure I won’t be a third wheel?” I ask as I check out my freshly blow-dried hair in the spa’s locker room, then adjust the little black dress Abby told me to bring.
“Sadie,” she says, meeting eyes with me in the mirror. “This is a celebrationfor you. It’s our treat. We’re so, so proud of you—Jonathan and I talked about you every single day, wondering what you were up to. He’s as invested in your badassness as I am.” She grins. “You deserve this. Let us celebrate with you?”
It honestly doesn’t take that much to twist my arm when a fancy dinner is involved, especially when said fancy dinner is a) free to me, and b) at Uchi.
“Okay,” I give in. “Let’s do it.”
Uchi looks completely unassuming from the outside: at a glance, it’s just a renovated old house with bright red paint and a rock garden off to the side. The rock garden is simply decorated with black patio furniture, the occasional green plant, and twinkling globe lights strung overhead—the perfect place to sip sake and nosh on edamame while waiting for a table.
We don’t have to wait tonight, though; whatever strings Jonathan managed to pull get us seated right away.
It’s much fancier on the inside than you might expect, but cozy, too, with its warm wooden tables and rich red floral wallpaper. The atmosphere is lively, typical for a Saturday night in Austin, not an empty table in sight.
“Right this way!” the host says, and the three of us follow like ducks in a row.
I reach out ahead of me, tap Jonathan lightly on the sleeve of his jacket.
“Thank you so much for making this happen,” I tell him.
I can’t believe I ever considered being a blob on the couch tonight.
As the host leads us to our table, I see countless dishes I’d love to try. Uchi is one of those places where you give the server your budget and saySurprise me!at the start of the meal, then share course after course of nontraditional Japanese cuisine—revelatory things you never knew you needed in your life. I was completely overwhelmed the first time I came here, but quickly learned to trust the server, and it’s worked out every time.
When the server stops at our table, I’m—
Confused.
Someone is already sitting there, sipping from a glass of water. Isthishow Jonathan snagged a reservation at the last minute—by convincing some random stranger to share his booth with us? Because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.
Jonathan slides in on the opposite side, completely unfazed. Abby too. She tilts her head, a suspiciously large smile on her face—
And that’s when I realize the man in the navy-blue suit isn’t a random stranger at all.
My heartbeat picks up.
“Thorn?” I say, in disbelief.
He turns, beaming, and the sight of him takes my breath away:thisis why it took a moment to place him—not only was I under the impression that he was out on a hike right now, but he cleans up really, really well. It’s hard to reconcile the rugged man I met out in California with the person in front of me, who looks like he was born to wear this suit.
“I thought you were on a trek this week?” I say as he unfolds himself from the booth to give me a proper greeting.
Thorn pulls me into a tight embrace, one hand between my shoulder blades and the other at my lower back. “Surprise,” he says into my hair.
My face already hurts from smiling.
This has been the very best day—and I have Abby to thank for this little plot twist, I assume. Her impish grin says I’m right.
“I can’t believe you sat on this secret all day!” I say.
“Jonathan and I both knew,” she confesses. “Thorn actually got in touch with Jonathan first—he called the JW Marriott since you’d told him how we were practically living there this summer.”
“Happy to be of service,” Jonathan says.
It’s great to see him out from behind the poolside bar for once; he cleans up pretty well, too, the perfect match for Abby.
We eat the best meal of my life—a far cry from protein bars and trail mix around the campfire—that culminates in the most perfectly fitting dessert: an elevated, deconstructed take on s’mores. It’s a whole presentation, one that involves a scoop of hazelnut gelato perched atop a perfectly circular bed of superfine graham cracker crumbs, salted fudge sauce drizzled artfully over the top, and finally, the pièce de résistance: a gigantic homemade marshmallow toasted by our server right there at the table.
