29. Another Chance at Dinner
29
Another Chance at Dinner
What do you tell a nurse when she administers an injection painlessly?
Good jab.
Natalie
“Wow,” Dylan said as I opened the door to my apartment.
I wasn’t used to him coming to my apartment since I usually met him at his. This felt formal and strange, but in a good way. It felt like a real date.
We were going to celebrate tonight. He’d had his first win of the season on Sunday. Today had been a good day at practice. We had a lot to celebrate.
I’d left Ellie with Alex at Dylan’s place a little over an hour ago. Alex had agreed to take Ellie for the whole night, provided that he got tomorrow off. Tuesdays were Dylan’s day off, so he could watch her. I didn’t have to work tonight, so I had a feeling I would happily be helping him tomorrow.
But tonight, the night was ours. And Dylan looked like he was excited for the night.
“Wow yourself,” I said. “I’m glad you got the suit dry cleaned in time.”
He shrugged. “Alex is truly a miracle worker,” he said. “I’m glad you have more than one dress.”
I smiled and did a little turn. The dark green dress was probably the second best dress I had. I had picked it up during a girls’ trip to Las Vegas, and I had never found another one like it.
I couldn’t help but blush under Dylan’s appreciative gaze. His eyes traveled slowly from my low heels up to my face, lingering on the way my dress hugged my curves. I’d decided to risk the low heel tonight because there was no way I was chasing a goat again.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he said, his voice low and warm. I felt a flutter in my stomach at the intensity of his stare.
“Thank you,” I replied, smoothing my hands over the silky fabric. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
Dylan grinned, adjusting his tie. “I do try. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“I managed to get us reservations at La Chez again,” he announced proudly.
My jaw dropped. I had thought after the evening of chasing a goat around the city that my dreams of the new French restaurant were over. “What? No way! How did you pull that off?”
“It’s Monday, remember? They’re not as busy at the beginning of the week. Besides, it’s good business to be seen serving local celebrities.”
I laughed. “So you’re a celebrity, huh?”
“ Local celebrity,” he repeated. “Are you going to be okay being gawked at?”
“They’re not going to be gawking at me if you’re the local celebrity,” I said.
He gave me another once-over. “Have you seen yourself in this dress?”
I blushed. “Well, La Chez is booked solid for months. If I get to eat there, I guess I’ll deal with a few extra eyes on me.”
As we drove to the restaurant, I found myself stealing glances at Dylan. He looked incredibly handsome in his suit, and I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill knowing that he had gone to all this trouble for me.
“So, how are you feeling after the game yesterday?” I asked, remembering the brutal hits he had taken.
Dylan flexed his shoulders. “A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle. How about you? I heard you were quite the nervous wreck in the box.”
I groaned. “Annette told you about that, huh?”
“Marcus might have mentioned something during our workout,” he said with a grin. “I think his exact words were ‘your neighbor was ready to scrub up and play nurse on the field.’”
“I wasn’t that bad,” I protested weakly.
Dylan reached over and squeezed my hand. “I think it’s sweet that you were worried about me. But I promise, I’m tougher than I look.”
“You’d better be,” I muttered. “Because I’m not sure my heart can take watching you get tackled like that every week.”
He smiled, but the smile faded away. I knew he was thinking of his injury last season, and I was sorry I had brought it up.
We pulled up to the valet stand at La Chez, and Dylan came around to open my door. As I stepped out, I caught him staring again.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “Nothing. I just can’t get over how beautiful you look tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat at his words and the unguarded expression on his face. As we walked into the restaurant, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this time our dinner at La Chez would be perfect.
“Your waiter will be wif you soon, but no need to worry about ze menu,” the ma?tre d‘ said in a French accent that I figured must be authentic. “We have a seven-course meal prepared for you zis evening. Would you like ze standard wine pairing or somezing else?”
“The wine pairing will be great,” Dylan said as he pulled my seat out.
Before I could sit down, the ma?tre d’ grabbed the chair next to him. “Ah, monsieur. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you seat mademoiselle.”
“This is so fancy,” I mouthed to him. He hid his smile as he hopped back and surrendered the chair magnanimously. I smiled and sat in the chair while Dylan sat across from me at the small table in the middle of the dining room. Dylan was right; all eyes were on us.
As we settled into our seats, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. The atmosphere was intimate and romantic, with soft lighting and the gentle clink of silverware against fine china. Dylan reached across the table and took my hand, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin.
“I’m glad we finally made it here,” he said softly. “After everything that happened last time—”
“Let’s not jinx it,” I cut in with a laugh. “I’d rather not chase any more farm animals tonight.”
Dylan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fair enough. Although I have to admit, you looked pretty adorable chasing that goat. I did not realize how practical that thigh high slit could be.”
I was about to retort when I noticed a young man approaching our table. He looked nervous, clutching a napkin in his hand.
“Excuse me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Dylan Callahan?”
Dylan hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to me apologetically before turning to the fan. “I am, yes.”
The young man’s face lit up. “I’m such a huge fan! Would you mind signing this for me?” He held out the napkin and a pen.
I could see the conflict in Dylan’s eyes. He was always so gracious with his fans, but I knew he wanted this night to be just about us. After a moment’s pause, he nodded and took the napkin.
“Sure thing. What’s your name?”
“Jason,” the fan replied eagerly.
Dylan quickly scribbled his signature and a brief message on the napkin before handing it back. “There you go, Jason. Thanks for your support.”
Jason beamed, clutching the napkin like it was made of gold. “Thank you so much! You’re the best tight end the team’s ever had! I’m never trading you off my fantasy team!”
As Jason walked away, I could see other diners starting to take notice. A few were whispering and pointing in our direction. Dylan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, reaching for my hand again. “I hope it doesn’t ruin our evening.”
Before I could respond, the ma?tre d‘ appeared at our table, looking flustered.
“Monsieur, Mademoiselle,” he said, bowing slightly. “I must apologize for zis interruption. It was not our intention to allow zis to happen.”
Dylan waved him off. “It’s alright, really. We haven’t even started eating yet.”
The ma?tre d’ shook his head adamantly. “Non, non. It is unacceptable. I assure you, I will personally see to it zat no one else interrupts your meal zis evening. You have my word.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the man’s earnestness. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
As the ma?tre d‘ bustled away, presumably to ward off any other potential autograph seekers, Dylan and I shared a look of amusement.
“Well,” I said, raising my water glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to an evening free of interruptions, farm animals, and anything else that might try to come between us and this seven-course meal.”
Dylan laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he clinked his glass against mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
The waiter returned moments later with two flutes of golden, bubbling liquid. “To start your evening, we ’ave a light champagne cocktail with a twist of lemon and a splash of elderflower liqueur. Bon appétit!”
I took a sip and felt the effervescence tickle my nose. The delicate balance of flavors danced on my tongue - the crisp champagne, the subtle sweetness of elderflower, and the bright citrus notes. It was the perfect way to begin our meal.
“Oh, this is lovely,” I said, savoring another sip. “What do you think, Dylan?”
He nodded appreciatively. “It’s excellent. Light and refreshing - just what we need to kick things off.”
As we sipped our champagne cocktails, the waiter returned with a beautifully arranged platter of hors d’oeuvres. My eyes widened at the array of delicate bites before us.
“For your hors d’oeuvres course, we have a selection of amuse-bouches,” the waiter explained. “We have a goat cheese and fig tartlet, a smoked salmon blini with crème fra?che, and a duck confit crostini with cherry compote.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of delight. “They all look amazing!”
Dylan grinned at my enthusiasm. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Dig in!”
I picked up the goat cheese tartlet first, marveling at how such a tiny morsel could be so intricately crafted. As I bit into it, the creamy tang of the goat cheese melded perfectly with the sweet fig. I closed my eyes, savoring the explosion of flavors.
When I opened them again, I caught Dylan watching me intently, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“What?” I asked, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
He shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing. I just love seeing you enjoy yourself.”
I felt a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the champagne. “Well, you’d better try some of these before I eat them all,” I teased, pushing the platter towards him.
As we worked our way through the hors d’oeuvres, I found myself stealing glances at Dylan. He seemed more relaxed now, the earlier tension from the fan interaction melting away. I loved how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, how his hands moved expressively as he talked about his latest game strategies.
Before I knew it, the platter was empty and the waiter was clearing it away. He returned moments later with two elegantly plated dishes.
“For your next course, we have a pan-seared sea bass with a lemon beurre blanc sauce, served with asparagus tips and fingerling potatoes.”
The aroma wafting up from the plate was heavenly. I picked up my fork, eager to taste this new creation.
“This looks incredible,” I said, carefully cutting into the perfectly cooked fish.
As I took my first bite, I couldn’t help but let out a small moan of appreciation. The fish was buttery and flaky, the sauce adding just the right amount of brightness to complement it. The asparagus was crisp-tender, and the potatoes were seasoned to perfection.
I looked up to share my delight with Dylan, only to find him watching me again, his own food untouched. There was an intensity in his gaze that made my breath catch.
“You haven’t touched your food,” I pointed out, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
He blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Sorry, I just... I can’t seem to take my eyes off you. The way you’re enjoying everything, it’s... captivating.”
I felt my face heat up again, but I held his gaze. “Well, you should eat too. It’s absolutely delicious.”
Dylan nodded, finally picking up his fork. As we ate, we fell into easy conversation, discussing everything from our favorite childhood meals to our dream vacation destinations. I found myself laughing more than I had in ages, feeling completely at ease despite the fancy setting.
As I finished the last bite of my sea bass, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about work, or Ellie, or any of the million other things that usually occupied my mind. In that moment, it was just me and Dylan, enjoying each other’s company over an incredible meal.
“You know,” Dylan said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Just you and me. No goat, no baby, no distractions.”
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest. “Me too. It’s nice to have some time to ourselves, away from... well, everything else.”
He reached across the table and took my hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my skin. The simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine.
“I know things have been a bit crazy lately,” he said softly. “With my schedule, and Ellie, and everything else. But I want you to know how much I appreciate you, Natalie. How much you’ve saved my ass these last couple of weeks. How much you mean to me.”
I felt my cheeks flush, and not just from the champagne. “Dylan, I-”
“I’ve just been thinking about a lot of things lately,” Dylan said. “Am I the right person to raise this baby? Can I still play football and take care of her? And I keep coming back to the fact that I’d be lost without you. So thank you.”
I looked down. I didn’t know what to say. I managed to bring my eyes back up with a nervous laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve brought me to a nice restaurant. That makes up for a lot of it.”
“You deserve it, and more. You deserve-”
The waiter cleared his throat. He had brought the fourth course, which was apparently the main course, even though I felt like I had already eaten enough. A Beef Wellington with mashed potatoes and about a dozen other garnishes was set in front of me.
Dylan must have seen my eyes dilate, because he laughed. “Why don’t we discuss the heavy stuff after you’ve eaten?”
I didn’t even wait for him to finish talking before digging in.