7. Brax
7
brAX
At what age does dating become hard or damn near impossible? I fear I am getting close to finding out.
Before Iris, I didn’t put much thought into the actual act of dating. I winged the hell out of every bit, but then again, I was never truly into the girl I was taking out either.
If I’m honest with myself, dating was about sex.
But tonight’s different.
I am at an age where I want more. After watching my sister fall in love with Wylder, I know I want that too. Not Wylder. Shiver. But someone who would be mine and have my back, no matter what happens.
Coming home to an empty apartment doesn’t hold the same appeal it did five years ago. It isn’t as exciting to have a place all to myself without other people around to interrupt whatever I’m doing, which usually involves my bed in some form.
Tate: Don’t mess this up. Try not to talk too much.
I grunt at the phone screen as I read my sister’s text in our cousins’ group text, which is always a much different conversation from the group text I’m in with my parents and siblings.
Me: I’m charming.
At least, I can be when I want to be, and with Iris, I very much want to charm her.
She wanted to meet me at the restaurant. She wouldn’t let me pick her up, making an excuse about Chicago traffic and how it would be easier to meet somewhere in the middle of the city.
The restaurant I chose is nice, but not the most expensive. My grandmother would call it swanky, but by no means is it top-tier in a city like this.
I glance down at my phone, hoping to see an update from Iris. But instead, I see my other cousin siding with my sister.
Lulu: You’re not. I’m with Tate. Speak very little.
Me: Anyone going to back me up?
I wait, hoping someone sides with me.
Mason: Talk away, big bro. If she doesn’t love your obnoxious attitude, then she isn’t the girl for you.
Obnoxious. I’m not obnoxious. I am confident, and those words have two very different meanings. My brother is the one with the obnoxious attitude, not me .
Amelia: You really like this woman, huh?
Amelia’s a good soul. She’s sweet. There has always been a kindness about her. An innocence that seems to be lacking in the rest of us.
Me: I do…a lot.
Nino: You got this.
Amelia: Sending good vibes your way.
I smile at Amelia’s and Nino’s messages as the door opens and Iris walks in, looking more beautiful than ever before.
My breath lodges in my throat as time seems to slow. I can’t take my eyes off her as the wind from outside whips around her before the door closes behind her. Her gaze doesn’t find me at first as she smooths down her hair.
I smile as I rise to my feet from the restaurant’s bar and head her way. “Hey,” I say when I’m a few feet away.
Her face instantly softens as her eyes meet mine. “Hey,” she says back. “The weather is so crazy.”
“Wintertime isn’t much fun,” I tell her.
Besides the bitter cold and shorter days, the number of layers we need to wear is suffocating. There isn’t one thing about the season that makes me happy.
“I almost didn’t make it. My car is still acting weird.”
“I know a guy who can look at it for you. ”
“I know a guy?” She snorts. “What a very Chicago thing to say.”
I laugh, hating that she’s right. Everyone around here knows a guy who can do or get anything, and I’m not an exception, but I’m also not special.
“Sir,” the hostess says from behind her wooden desk. “Your table is ready.”
“I’m starving,” Iris says to me as she unbuttons her full-length wool coat that is probably warmer than anything I own.
“Let me,” I say as I move behind her, helping her with her coat.
She doesn’t say no and shrugs off the heavy material with such grace compared to the way I’d do it.
“I’ll take that,” a man says from behind me. “Here’s the ticket.”
“Swanky,” Iris mutters, giving me a big smile. “I’m impressed.”
It’s not lost on me that she uses the same word my grandmother would. It’s an old one and not something I hear often.
“Been here before?” I ask her, motioning for her to walk in front of me.
“No,” she says as she follows the hostess into the main dining room, and I trail behind her.
My gaze travels down the back of her, taking in the tight fit of her dress and the way it hugs her hips and waist perfectly .
The hostess stops in front of the best table in the place. “Is this to your satisfaction?” she asks.
“Better than I could’ve expected,” I tell her as I move to pull out Iris’s chair for her.
The table is next to the fireplace, giving us much-needed heat and ambiance. I set it up that way since my good friend from high school owns the place. He did me a solid with this last-minute booking, and I owe him one for it.
“Impressive.” Iris smiles up at me as she takes the seat.
“Which part?” I ask as I sit across the table from her.
“Your manners and the table.”
“The manners were hammered into me at a young age, and the table… I know a guy.”
She laughs as she takes the menu from the hostess’s hand.
“The chef would like to make a special meal for you, but if you’d prefer to order off the menu, he’d be happy to do that too,” the hostess says. “He’ll be out shortly to say hello, Mr. Gallo.”
“I guess you do know a guy.” Iris smiles as she looks down at the menu, her face illuminated by the fire.
“I know a lot of guys,” I tell her, studying the soft lines of her face.
She glances up, catching me staring. “How do you know him? ”
“We went to school together. He grew up in the neighborhood.”
“I only keep in touch with Sandy and Mikayla from school. I couldn’t even tell you where everyone else went. High school ended, and everyone scattered.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Not really, if you knew the snooty people I went to school with.” She laughs. “They were awful.”
“Northsiders,” I whisper.
“We’re not all snobby.”
“You aren’t and neither are your friends, but the rest…” I can’t take my eyes off her as she looks down at the menu. How did I get so damn lucky? It’s like the snowstorm was sent on purpose to throw us together. Maybe winter will end up being my favorite season after all.
“I bet you secretly love the Cubs.”
“I would be kicked out of the neighborhood if I loved the Cubs.”
She snorts. “Liar.”
“Braxton,” David says as he comes to stand beside our table.
I instantly rise, giving my old friend a hug…something that isn’t abnormal in our neighborhood. “Good to see you, man. This is Iris.”
David’s eyes light up as he drinks in Iris. He’s as smitten as I am with her beauty. “It’s my pleasure,” he says with a tip of his head. “I hope you’re comfortable at this table.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, because it is. I couldn’t have picked a better spot for a first date. It is romantic and private, but not too over the top.
“Your restaurant is beautiful,” Iris says to him as I ease myself back into my seat.
“Thank you. It’s been a labor of love, but I could’ve never imagined it would be as popular as it’s been.”
“He’s being modest. David’s the best chef I know.”
David chuckles. Modesty has never been his strong suit. We have that in common, along with other things. “So, this evening, I would like to prepare something special for the two of you. Is that good?”
Iris nods and I say, “Yes.”
“Great. Any food allergies?”
I shake my head as Iris replies, “No.”
“Excellent. I’ll send out the first course soon, and if you need anything, please ask Eileen to get me. She’ll be your server this evening.”
“Thank you,” I say to David, extending my hand.
“Anything for you, Brax,” he says before turning his attention toward Iris. “He’s a good guy. Sometimes his mouth gets him in trouble, but he’s a good one.”
Iris snorts. “I’ll make a mental note of that.”
“Back to the grind,” David says before leaving the table and heading toward the back of the restaurant .
“He seems nice,” Iris says when he finally disappears into the kitchen.
“He is now, but he was wild when we were in high school.”
“We all had our moments,” she replies.
I tuck that nugget away, wondering what she did in high school that she’d classify as wild. I can’t imagine her doing anything dangerous or out of the norm. She doesn’t seem the type.
“You’ve had his food before?”
I nod. “He worked at the bar while he was attending culinary school here in the city. I was sad to see him go, because the man made the best burger I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“Good evening,” a woman says as she comes to a stop at the side of our table. “I’m Eileen, and I’ll be taking care of you. Chef has gifted you a bottle of our best champagne.” She shows me the bottle, but I wouldn’t know a good champagne from a bad one even if it hit me upside the head. “Is this to your liking?” The question is directed at me. If David says it’s good, then it has to be.
“Yes,” I tell her.
She sets down two glass flutes and goes to work filling them.
“Do you like champagne?” I ask Iris.
“Of course, but I don’t have it often because…” She smiles .
“One glass,” I tell her.
“Only one.”
“Your first course will be out shortly.”
I lift my flute, and Iris does the same. “What should we toast to?” I ask her as the flames lick the side of her face, creating a beautiful glow in her eyes.
“To new beginnings,” she says, and my insides become warmer than the fire next to us.
“To new beginnings,” I repeat, clinking my glass against hers.
We stare at each other over the rim of the glasses, taking our time savoring the champagne. I try not to make a face, but the liquid is so bitter, it’s hard not to spit it out.
“Wow, that’s…” Iris’s voice trails off.
“Sour,” I finish.
She chuckles as she sets the flute back on the table. “We won’t have to worry about me having more than one glass. It’s too tart for me.”
I lean forward, clasping my hands together. “I need to be honest with you.”
She mimics me until our faces are only a foot apart. “What is it?”
“I liked when you snuggled against me.”
Her face turns a bright shade of pink. “Can I be honest too?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“I wish I remembered because I’m sure I liked it too.” She eases back into her chair, never taking her eyes off me.
“Well, damn,” I mutter. “We could do it while you’re awake, and you can find out.”
She smirks, and for a moment, I think I’ve gone too far until she says, “We may have to do just that.”
I’m stunned into silence. Something that doesn’t happen to me often. I compose myself as I lean back, staring at her. “Really?”
When did I become the type of man who got excited about snuggling? It isn’t me. Never has been. But there is something about Iris that makes me want to get closer, even if it is only cuddling. She has a shit past, and I’ll take whatever type of touching she is comfortable with. I only know I want whatever she is willing to give.
“We’ll see. So far, my answer is yes.”
So far… “I won’t fuck it up,” I promise her.
Iris laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. “I have faith in you.”
“Here we go,” Eileen says, interrupting our moment. “The first course features bacon-topped deviled eggs on a fried tomato base with house-made garlic aioli.”
My mouth instantly waters at the sight of them as she sets the plate on the table. “Damn,” I whisper, trying not to drool on myself.
“These look amazing,” Iris tells Eileen .
“They’re my absolute favorite,” Eileen replies. “Would you like anything else to drink?”
“Water, please,” Iris says.
“Make it two, please,” I tell Eileen before she leaves.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this before. I’m excited to taste it,” Iris says to me as she lays her napkin across her lap.
“Me too,” I say as I stare at her, but I’m not talking about the food in front of us.
Iris catches my eye, and when her cheeks turn pink again, I figure she’s reading all my dirty thoughts.
“And I don’t think it will be the most delicious thing I taste tonight either.” I’m feeling her out now. I want to know how timid she is or how against sex she is after her douchebag ex left her. Maybe, just maybe…
“I hope it’s not,” she fires back without missing a beat.
“I plan to savor every single bite.”
She visibly swallows as her breathing quickens. “Oh.”
I smile at Iris, wishing I could reach across the table, grab her face, and taste her lips. Why I didn’t ask for a booth or to sit next to her is beyond me. As my sister would say… I’m a dummy.
I grab the utensils and scoop up an egg with a tomato, holding it over Iris’s plate. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me, though. “Do you want?” I ask, staring back at her with as much heat building inside me as the fire next to us.
“Yes,” she says, her voice all breathy.
And I know in this moment, neither of us is really talking about the damn eggs.