Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hadley
Easton tips his baseball hat down as we leave The St. Regis and turn right, my hand tucked into his. He definitely has a plan on where we’re going, and he walks us to a street that isn’t filled with people.
“Do you like Mexican?” he asks, our pace not leisurely but determined. Clearly, he doesn’t want us to be stopped.
“Who doesn’t?”
He squeezes my hand. “People I don’t want to be friends with.”
We get to a quieter part of the city, and he stops in front of a cozy-looking Mexican restaurant with a red-painted door and a small ceramic chili pepper as the handle.
“You’ve been here before?”
“I wouldn’t have chanced it tonight with you if I hadn’t.”
He opens the door, and I step inside. The scent alone could end me.
The restaurant is small and filled with conversation.
Lit strings of bare bulbs hang low over mismatched tables.
Every seat is taken, and nobody is looking at their phone.
The music is live, a trio in the corner playing something that makes my hips want to move.
A man behind the host stand looks up, and his face splits into a grin. “Easton.”
He comes around the stand, arms open, and pulls Easton into a hug that Easton returns without hesitation. He’s maybe sixty, with silver at his temples and deep laugh lines. His eyes are warm and not judging when he sees me next to him.
“The missus?” He looks at Easton first, then me.
“Roberto, this is Hadley.” Easton’s hand finds the small of my back. “The missus.”
Surprise moves through Roberto’s expression first, then something I can’t name. He looks between us once, quickly, then takes my hand in both of his.
“Welcome.” He says it as though I’m his daughter-in-law. “Come, come.”
He entwines my arm through his and leads us through the restaurant, weaving between tables, past the bar where two bartenders are shaking margaritas aggressively, past an older lady pressing handmade tortillas, past the kitchen where I catch a glimpse of flames, and then through a narrow hallway to a small corner table half hidden by a painted screen and a hanging curtain of dried flowers.
The table is for two. The noise from the main part of the restaurant is dampened slightly.
“Enjoy.” Roberto squeezes my hand, then pulls out my chair.
Easton sits across from me as Roberto leaves us alone. Our eyes meet across the table, the small tealight in a red vase leaving us in shadows.
“Is this where you take all your dates?” My question comes out before I realize that I don’t want the answer. I don’t want to picture him at this table with anyone else.
He doesn’t hesitate. “Decker isn’t much of a conversationalist, but…”
I pick up my menu, feeling the need to cut off our connection, but his finger pulls my menu back down.
“You know you’re the only woman I’ve ever gone on dates with, right?”
I don’t answer, and he releases the menu. I don’t know what to say, because him bringing me, sharing this place with me, I think it means something to him.
Chips arrive before we order. A basket of them, still hot and salty, with a bowl of salsa that Roberto sets down without a word, walking away. I dip the homemade chip into the salsa and crunch down on it, sinking back in my chair, my eyes closing briefly to savor the taste.
Easton grins. “Right?”
“You’ve ruined me for all other tortilla chips now.”
“Deck gets them to go.” He scoops his own chip into the salsa and pops it into his mouth.
We order tacos, more than we’ll ever finish, and two margaritas that arrive in glasses so large I have to hold mine with both hands. Easton leans back in his chair as though he’s as relaxed as ever, and the music from the trio drifts back to us through the curtain of dried flowers.
For the first time in recent memory, I feel the particular easiness of an impromptu night where there are no expectations. The same as when I would first arrive in a new city.
I smile across the table at Easton. “This place is great.”
“Tell me somewhere,” he says.
“Somewhere?”
“You’ve been everywhere. Tell me somewhere that beats this.”
I give it real thought. Not the obvious answers, not the classic tourist places people expect you to say, like Rome, Paris, or Sydney.
“There’s a restaurant in Oaxaca. No sign on the door—actually pretty similar to this one.
Family-run, grandmother does all the cooking, grandkids are the servers.
There’s this beautiful courtyard with iron tables, and the sun filters through the wooden-slatted pergola. ”
I wrap my hands around my glass. “The food takes a while to come out, but you don’t care because the music and impromptu dances of the dad pulling his wife or daughters into it keep you entertained.” I pause, smiling as I remember it. “I ate there four nights in a row.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
He watches me carefully. “Do you ever get lonely?”
I take a sip of my margarita before I answer. “Sometimes. Traveling alone can be lonely. I meet people, locals of course, friends from where I find a job, but sometimes you want to share the new stuff with someone—bond over discovering some new amazing place in this world.”
He’s quiet for a moment, twisting his margarita glass in a circle on the table.
“I’ve mostly gone back to Lake Starlight in the offseason, except for the past couple years.
I love it. But I’ve been thinking lately that I want Tanner to see the world as he grows up, and I have the means and the time during the offseason.
There’s so much I haven’t seen because I was always either in season or going home.
” He looks at the table and back at me. “I want to make memories with him.”
My chest aches, then tightens.
“He’d love it,” I say.
“We could use a tour guide.” His eyebrows lift and my heart beats faster. Is he thinking a trip would sell this marriage thing?
Don’t overthink it, Hadley.
I smile and stare at my plate, not trusting my face to not give me away.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, leaning closer.
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you stay anywhere long enough?”
I open my mouth, not even sure how I’ll answer.
Before I have to, Roberto comes over and offers his hand as though maybe he knew I needed the escape. I don’t even wonder where he’s taking me, I just give him my hand. I glance at Easton, who looks as though he can’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused.
Roberto gently pulls me up from the table. He leads me to the dance floor, putting a hand on my waist and gripping my other hand. I’m laughing before I’ve even found the beat. He spins me out and back and says something to me in Spanish that I don’t understand.
We dance for half a song, and I’m finally keeping up with him, but he says, “I knew he wouldn’t let me steal you.”
He spins me out again, but he releases my hand, and I fall into Easton’s arms.
Easton’s hand shifts to my waist, his other hand finding mine. His thigh settles between my legs as the music continues. I don’t fight it, the rhythm and song carrying us around the small dance floor.
He spins me, and I’m laughing, my head flung back as the string lights blur above me, and when he pulls me back in, I’m slightly breathless. He grins at me as though I’m the best dance partner in the world.
“You dance,” I say, surprised.
“I can do more than just hit a baseball.” He spins me again. “I’m surprised you let me lead.”
I come back to him, and we find the rhythm together. I’m not sure why I’m surprised it’s easy. Everything with Easton is easy. Isn’t that the most terrifying part?
The song ends, and we remain there for another song. The rhythm slows, and he tucks our hands between our bodies, his mouth close to my ear and mine close to his jaw. Neither of us pull away or pretend we don’t know what this is between us.
I’m lost in Easton and the sway of our bodies to the soft melody that I’m sure is a love song played by the three guitarists in the corner. I never want it to end. I could stay here in his arms forever.
But the song does end, and he spins me out one more time. When I come back, Easton catches me with both hands at my waist, holding me close as the music fades.
His eyes fall to mine, and that question he asked right before Roberto took me away feels heavier than ever, as though there were meaning there and not general curiosity.
He brushes the hair back from my face. “Why do you never stay anywhere long enough to develop roots?”
I’m starting to think I just hadn’t found anyone worth staying for before now.