Chapter 4
Tallulah
Ialready knew what I wanted for dinner because I had reviewed the menu ahead of time, but my eyes skimmed the choices to reconfirm I wanted the salmon salad.
Though studying the menu, I was oddly conscious of the man to my right. Was he good-looking? Yes. But not in a drop-dead gorgeous, head-turning way. In a polished, respectable way. The Caucasian version of my ex-husband.
He had a headful of glossy dark brown hair, cut low and graying at the temples.
Faint lines had settled at the corners of his eyes, which appeared as captivating pools of light gray.
His lips weren't particularly remarkable—somewhere between thin and full—but his jawline.
.. well, that was remarkably square. Perhaps Jamison's best feature.
I wouldn't be surprised if his jawline could cut through concrete.
He wore a navy-blue suit and a dark tie. A very conservative appearance compared to his son, whose tan jacket and red tie seemed more relaxed and complemented his darker complexion. They'd both clearly come right from work.
At first glance, I had assumed that if Jamison smiled, his face would crack. Instead, the initial smile softened his features and made him seem more approachable, but I could definitely see the rigidity in him that Blossom had mentioned.
Most of the time, the only meat I ate was seafood, with the occasional chicken thrown in.
When I didn't feel like eating either of those, a big bowl of vegetables was my go-to.
The menu had an interesting vegetarian option, but I idly considered ordering the lobster.
Such a decision would definitely not make a good impression on Jamison and embarrass my daughter.
But boy, was I tempted. I hadn't had lobster in a long time, and I'm sure a restaurant like this made a great dish.
Jamison did say to get anything you want, didn't he?
I knew he didn't mean get anything you want. No one ever meant those words when they said them. What they really meant was, get anything you want within reason. I closed the menu.
"You've made a decision?" Jamison asked.
I nodded. "I'm going to have the salmon salad."
"Salmon salad?"
He sounded appalled. Downright disappointed. Maybe I should have ordered the lobster.
"They have great steaks. I bring clients here at least twice a month," he continued.
"Mom doesn't eat red meat," Blossom volunteered.
"What a surprise," Jamison said.
Did I hear sarcasm? His response sounded like sarcasm, as if a detail he already suspected had been confirmed.
Now he was looking at me as if I were a being from another planet. Guessing the question coming next, I answered before he asked.
"I didn't give up red meat for religious reasons or because I have any ethical concerns about those animals—though that's a conversation we should be having.
It's purely for health reasons. I cut out red meat and processed meat years ago because they've been linked to a greater increase in heart disease, are carcinogenic to humans, and cause inflammation, which creates all kinds of problems in the body.
Food is medicine, as they say, and I take that very seriously. "
"She's very conscientious about what she puts into her body," Blossom said.
I smiled at her. "I'm not as good as I should be, but I try to do my part."
"Too much of anything is bad for you, isn't it?" Jamison sipped his wine.
"Sure. But too much of certain things is worse," I said.
He mulled my statement for a while. "Is red meat the only food you won't eat?"
"I eliminated pork a while back, so mostly I eat seafood and all sorts of fruits and vegetables."
"You're pescatarian," Manuel said.
"Not really. I enjoy an occasional piece of chicken, and I always have turkey at Thanksgiving," I said with a laugh. "But for the most part, yes."
The waiter returned, placing a basket of warm bread in the middle of the table and then taking our orders.
Jamison ordered the ribeye, medium-rare.
Absolutely unsurprising considering how he praised the steaks here.
I went with the salmon salad, as planned, while Manuel and Blossom also ordered steaks and asked for wine with their meals.
They seemed to be in tune with each other. Both ordered waters to start. Both ordered steaks and wine with their meals.
Jamison took a piece of bread and passed the basket around the table. By the time our food arrived, conversation was flowing easily as we got to know each other.
"How did you two meet? Blossom mentioned something about food trucks, but I don't know the details." I ate some of my yummy salmon.
The kids put down their forks and looked at each other.
"Do you want to tell the story?" Blossom asked.
"You start. I'll jump in if you say anything wrong," Manuel teased.
Blossom laughed, as if he were a stand-up comedian delivering the best line of the night.
"Okay, so there was a food truck rally near campus, and a few of my friends and I decided to go—to eat something different from the usual dreck they gave us on campus." She wrinkled her nose.
Blossom made it sound as if they didn't have good choices.
There were literal chain restaurants on campus, giving them delicious options in addition to the food offered in the dining halls, which were also very good.
Dreck? I could tell her about dreck. That's what we were served when I was a college student, and we certainly didn't have as many amenities.
I'll never forget jealously touring the campus with her and seriously considering re-enrolling because of all the improvements.
"Everyone who knows me knows I love a good taco, so of course I made a beeline for the taco truck," Blossom continued.
"I saw her in line," Manuel continued, his eyes on my daughter. "I was over at the pizza truck and couldn't take my eyes off her."
Blossom blushed. Okay, they were cute.
"I had to meet her, so I left my line and went to the taco truck."
"Even though he wanted pizza!" Blossom exclaimed, throwing up her hands. She often spoke with her hands, which was amusing to watch.
"I no longer cared about pizza." Manuel shrugged. "After working up the nerve, I struck up a conversation with her and asked about the menu."
"As if he couldn't read," Blossom said.
"I needed an excuse to talk to you," he admitted.
Jamison sipped his wine. I wasn't looking directly at him, so I couldn't read his expression. I wondered if he was enjoying this cute story as much as I was.
"We kept talking until it was my turn to order, which I did. He didn't order anything but asked if I'd like to keep talking. I said yes," Blossom said coyly.
"I knew then that I had her," Manuel gloated, gesturing as if he'd cast out a line and was reeling in a fish.
Blossom bumped him with her shoulder, and they both laughed.
"Then what happened?" Jamison asked.
"Then she stood in line with me at the pizza truck. After I paid for my meal, we sat down on the grass together and continued talking."
"What happened to your friends?" I asked.
"They saw us but left us alone. At least my guy friends did." Manuel laughed.
"My friends texted a couple of times until I told them I was fine, and if they wanted to leave, they could go back to campus without me," Blossom added.
"We must have stayed there what... three hours?" Manuel asked.
"At least," Blossom agreed. "Finally, we walked back to campus and exchanged numbers. We've been together ever since."
"That's a lovely story. You met in February, about four months ago, correct?" I knew the answer but had purposely supplied the information for Jamison's benefit, in case he didn't know.
Manuel's face suddenly became serious. "I know the timeline seems like we're rushing, but I've never felt this way about anyone but your daughter, Ms. Washington."
"Young love does have a tendency to be impatient," Jamison observed.
"Dad, we're not that young," Manuel said with a hint of exasperation. "We're both twenty-two years old. We're college graduates. We know who we are and what we want."
Though I couldn't see their hands, I could tell the moment he reached for Blossom under the table.
"We've talked about everything you could imagine," my daughter added. "We've discussed our career goals, what part of town we want to live in, kids. Everything. We're on the same page about all of it."
Jamison and I exchanged glances. Though we were basically strangers, for a brief moment, we shared the same concern: that our kids might be moving too fast, and there was nothing we could do to slow them down. They were in love and determined to move forward. They also clearly wanted our blessing.
"Congratulations on finding your other half in this crazy world," I said. "I'm here if you need me for anything. Advice. Venting. The offer includes you too, Manuel. But not too much on my daughter, okay?"
He laughed. "Yes, ma'am."
"Same goes for me. I'm here if you need me." Jamison raised his glass. "To our children, Manuel and Blossom. I wish you nothing but the best."
I lifted my half-full glass of cranberry juice.
"So do I. I know you probably haven't thought this far ahead, but my first piece of advice is to suggest a spring wedding under a new moon.
In spring, your energy aligns with growth and renewal, while marrying under a new moon is perfect for new beginnings and building a lasting life together.
" Had I taken my own advice, my marriage might have lasted.
Jamison turned his head in my direction, but I ignored him because I noticed the smiles on Blossom and Manuel's faces had faltered.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
They didn't have to get married in the spring under a new moon. I was only making a suggestion. Maybe I shouldn't have brought up my beliefs. I'd probably embarrassed Blossom and confused Manuel.
"No. We, uh..." My daughter glanced at her fiancé.
"We've already picked a date," Manuel said.
"I didn't know you had already decided on a date. What date did you pick?" Jamison asked.
"We're getting married on September twentieth. In three months."
Jamison and I slowly lowered our glasses at the same time.
"Three months!" we exclaimed.