“It’s a deal. And if we both like the tapas they serve here, maybe we could order something more for dinner. I think we’ve done enough walking around for now and I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’m having a really nice time, Peter,” she said with a soft sigh. “Thank you.”
“I know spending time in a bar drinking wine isn’t exactly in keeping with the walk down memory lane I promised because we didn’t do things like this back then. But I figured we’re entitled to some mix and match.”
“No arguments there. This is perfect.”
She lifted her wine glass and clinked it against his in a toast.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers. To our lovely day.”
“So far.”
Her eyebrows lifted in a question. “There’s more to come?”
“Of course. I promised we’d walk up Blackberry Hill once it got dark and look at the stars.”
“You’re serious about that?” she laughed.
“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, it’ll be dark.”
“It was dark when we walked up there the last time and looked at the stars.”
“True. And I was fifteen years younger back then. So were you, for that matter.”
“Are you saying you’re not up to the challenge, old woman?”
She laughed, obviously delighted by his cheeky remark. “Oh, I’m up to it. I’m just not sure if I can remember the way after all these years.”
“I’ll show you the way.”
And just like that, the light-hearted moment turned into something freighted with meaning. Peter held her gaze for a long beat, lost in her eyes, searching for any sign that his words had landed the way he hoped they might.
“Well, if we get lost up there or break an ankle, I’m holding you responsible,” she said with an easy laugh. “Let’s order some wine. I think we’ll need it.”
Peter laughed and turned his attention to the wine list. He chose a rich Spanish red and ordered a bottle to see them through the tapas and the meal… and the starlight walk that waited on the other side of it.
21
Gaby was impressedby the little bar Peter had chosen. The tapas were delicious and the wine was dangerously drinkable. Pleased with their food choices, they moved on to share two larger plates for dinner, opting for seafood paella and a herby grilled chicken dish served with a crisp green salad.
The bar was relaxed and cosy. Gaby realised she’d described just about every place Peter had taken her with that word—cosy. And she didn’t mean it in the twee, trying-too-hard way that some ‘cosy’ venues ended up feeling. She meant it in the sense that these places made her feel comfortable and at ease and reluctant to go once they’d finished eating and drinking.
That was the true mark of a good restaurant or bar or pub—once you’d had your fill, you didn’t want to leave because you felt at home there.
Cosy.
Feeling cosy in the bar offset the decidedly non-cosy way she felt whenever Peter looked at her with that dark gleam in his eyes or reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
She felt anything but cosy in those moments. Instead, she felt… reckless.
Once they finished the bottle of wine, they ordered coffee because that cosy feeling made Gaby want to stay a little longer, cocooned and comfortable and deep in conversation with Peter.
