15. nix #2
She checks her tablet, then smiles at us.
“Certainly. Please follow me, and I’ll show you to your table.
” She grabs a couple of menus and a bottle of water with two glasses.
We weave through tables to the outdoor area.
The place is packed. No surprise there; this restaurant has won several awards.
When we step outside, I notice the garden is more established and lush than it was several years ago when we first came here.
Thick vines grow over trellis beams, and a sea of fairy lights creates a romantic ambiance.
Palms and ferns grow in large pots, and candles flicker on each table.
Being open to the night air, it’s cooler out here, but the outdoor heaters ensure it’s not uncomfortable.
Abbi’s head swivels this way and that, taking everything in.
Her hand squeezes mine, and I’m thrilled to see her smile back in place.
The hostess stops at a table that is at the far end of a deck and has a semblance of privacy, as per my request; I’ll leave an extra tip to show my appreciation.
It’s quieter here, without walls and a ceiling to trap everyone’s voices.
The hostess places the water and glasses on the table, then tips her head. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” we both say.
I pull out Abbi’s chair so she can sit, then kiss the top of her head, drawing in her signature scent.
She’s worn the same perfume I bought for her when she turned eighteen.
I’d saved a portion of my paycheck for two months to be able to afford it, but it was worth every single penny to see the wonder on her face when she opened the wrapping paper.
Drawing the delicate floral fragrance into my nose brings forth a million memories of me and Abbi.
Happy times together spanning decades. Like when she fell off my skateboard, I had to carry her off the road because her hands and knees were bleeding badly.
She didn’t shed a single tear as she chastised me for babying her.
I just wanted any excuse to hold her close, and I was smart enough to grab onto the opportunity.
By the time I’ve made it around to my seat, Abbi’s filled our glasses with water and is opening the menu. “I wonder if they still have the mushroom and chicken risotto. As much as I try to replicate it at home, I just can’t get it to taste the same.”
A lie. There’s nothing Abbi can’t cook to perfection.
I nod. “They do. I checked when I made the reservation.”
Abbi pauses, studying me closely, and it takes everything not to squirm beneath her scrutiny. “I can’t believe you remember my favorite dish here,” she murmurs, fidgeting with her linen napkin. “It’s been such a long time.”
I reach across and weave my fingers through hers. “I remember everything, Abs.” I just do a shit job of showing her that.
Her eyes trace over every inch of my face, the flickering candle between us casting a golden glow over her features as I study her in return.
She’s so beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, but as she’s grown older, there’s wisdom in her gaze, and the wrinkles around her eyes caused by smiling—because my Abbi …
she used to smile all the time—only add to her appeal.
I catch the waiter stopping at our table from the corner of my eye. “Would you like to order any drinks?” He looks between us, waiting for our answer.
I order a craft beer for myself and a glass of Smith-Madrone Riesling for Abs, and the waiter disappears with a slight tip of his head.
Once we’re alone again, silence falls over our table, and I struggle to find something to talk about.
I’ve never been one to talk much, and it wasn’t until Abbi gave up leading our conversations that I realized how weak my conversational skills are.
I don’t want to get into my planned discussion straight away.
I figure I’ll ease into it somewhere between our main meal and dessert.
I pick up my menu for something to do, though I already know what I want after studying the menu online—Wagyu steak with a garlic butter potato stack, and asparagus spears seared in lemon honey sauce. My mouth waters thinking about it.
“There it is!” Abs exclaims, her eyes twinkling at me above her menu. “I can almost taste the creamy dish already.” She giggles and the sound sings through my bloodstream, making a direct hit on my heart.
The waiter brings our drinks, then takes our food order, disappearing again. I raise my beer toward Abbi, who takes the hint and raises her wine. “To date nights with my beautiful wife.” I tap my bottle against Abbi’s glass.
“To date nights,” she murmurs, then we both take a sip, keeping our eyes locked on each other.
While her eyes sparkle from the candlelight, she can’t hide the wariness in them.
I don’t blame her. I haven’t given her a reason to trust my intentions—yet.
But I plan to. I plan to show Abbi that she’s the most important person in the world to me.
More important than having a successful business.
Hell, I could sell the business tomorrow, and we’d be set for life.
Neither of us would have to work and could spend all our days embarking on adventures together, but I doubt either of us wants me to give up my business.
It’s more about establishing a proper balance.
My mind spins for something to discuss; however, starting a conversation isn’t my strong suit, as I’ve discovered over the last several weeks. Finally, I land on something we’re both invested in. “What do you think of the work Theo’s done so far?”
Abbi stops twisting the stem of her glass, her facial muscles and shoulders relaxing a little.
I’m not the only one who feels tense and unsure.
It feels good that I’m not the only one, not that I’m happy my wife is tense, it’s just that maybe this date means as much to her as it does to me.
“He does beautiful work. I watch him measuring, checking, and measuring again. Every single cut of his saw is precise, and I think the quality of his craftsmanship shows.” She sighs.
“We’re going to have a beautiful backyard when it’s all finished. ”
“That we are. We should have done it years ago.” Guilt washes over me again.
It’s something Abbi wanted us to do soon after we bought the house.
She wanted to make it our oasis—our little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of life beyond our property—but I was always too focused elsewhere.
First with the Army Rangers, then with Steele Security.
It’s yet another way I let my wife down.
Her response to my declaration is a simple hum at the back of her throat.
“Rose has also secured the advanced plants we need. She’ll manage the planting once Theo has finished his work and you’ve finished the stone walkway.
” She tilts her glass toward me. “You’re doing a great job with that, by the way. It looks stunning.”
At least I’m getting something right. She loves the fire pit too.
I rub the fresh calluses on my palm with my thumb.
“Thanks. I found some lights I think will work with our vision.” I drag out my phone, ignoring the plethora of messages.
Tonight is about reconnecting with my wife.
Work can wait until Monday. I navigate to the website and the lights I’m considering, then pass the phone across the table.
Our fingers make contact momentarily, and I relish her brief touch like a sun-starved prisoner of war soaking up any warmth.
The server stops at our table with our appetizer, and I watch my wife’s eyes light up at the cherry bruschetta placed on the table between us. “Enjoy,” he says with a flourish of his hand, then steps away from our table before we can thank him.
I push the platter closer to Abbi so she can grab the first piece of toasted sourdough.
She wastes no time taking the first bite, and I delight in watching her eyes close and absorbing the moan that climbs up her throat.
She chews and swallows, then peels her eyes open, finding mine locked on her.
She smiles shyly as she nudges the platter closer to me. “You must have some. It’s divine.”