She presses her lips together, fighting a smile. "I can't decide if I'm annoyed."
"You're not annoyed."
"I'm a little annoyed."
Belle appears at the table. She has pink hair, notepad out, already typing our order into her phone before we'd said a word. "Two ribeye’s, one medium, one medium-well, fries for the lady, loaded potato for the gentleman, and two Dr. Peppers?" She looks up. "Janet called ahead."
Falon sets her menu down. "Can’t say she’s wrong, besides. How can you order the loaded baked potato? The fries are the best."
Belle snaps her gum and disappears.
I lean back in my chair and look across the table. The candle between us is doing its best. The string lights arewarm overhead. Outside the window, Main Street moves at its usual unhurried pace. A couple walking their dog, old Mr. Briggs on his evening constitutional, the hardware store lights going off for the night.
Falon is watching me watch the street.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
"That I've been home for how long, and never thought to eat here."
"That’s a shame."
"I know." I look at her. "I missed a lot of things."
She tilts her head slightly. The lights overhead are dim and perfect.
"You're here now," she says.
"I am."
The Dr. Peppers arrives. We clink glasses, and she tells me that Michael had finally located the missing plant order.
“It was in the cold storage room the whole time. He was so excited. It was like listening to a Sherlock Holmes case when he told me how he found it. That kid should be a mystery writer.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Come to think of it, have you seen Rowdy chase his tail?” she asks after she cuts into her steak.
“Yeah. Rowdy chased his own tail for a full two minutes this morning before he caught it. He was a little surprised to find it attached, so he yelped and ran into the closet.”
She closes her eyes and hums when she takes a bite, and I forget how to breathe for a second.
Somewhere between the main course and whatever Belle was bringing for dessert, I look across the table and think: this could be an average Thursday. This is just an ordinary evening in an ordinary town, and I am sitting across from Falon Williams in the warm light of a restaurantthat had been here longer than either of us, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
I want a thousand more of these.
After dinner, we walk back to the truck. The evening had gone cool, the way Montana evenings do in late June, and the street is quiet. Falon rubs her arms and walks close enough that our shoulders brush every few steps.
At the truck, she stops and turns.
"Bo."
"Yeah."
She looks at me for a moment. Her expression is soft and unsure. "Thank you for tonight."
"Janet deserves the credit."
"Janet gets enough credit." She tilts her head. "I'm thanking you."
I hold her gaze. "Then you're welcome."
She reaches up and presses a quick kiss to my jaw. Simple and easy. Like she'd been doing it for years. Then she gets in the truck, and I stand on the sidewalk for a second.
