14. Chapter Fourteen #2
We make small talk all the way to Regiano’s.
Graham parks the golf cart at the back of the restaurant.
He jumps off, pocketing the key, and jogs around to my side before I know it.
He offers me his hand to help me off and I lay the daisies on the seat.
I smooth my hair down as we walk around to the front door.
Butterflies dance in my stomach as we hold hands; I can feel my palms getting clammy already.
Regiano’s closely resembles Olive Garden, one thing I do miss about Seattle. There aren’t many chain restaurants here in Driftbay, just locally-owned places like Beth’s.
A hostess clad in all black smiles as she sees us approach.
“Hi!” she says enthusiastically. “Table for two?” She glances at the computer on the station in front of her.
Graham nods, still holding my hand.
“Would you like inside or outside?” she asks.
“Outside,” he says.
The hostess nods and leads us through the crowded restaurant and out onto the patio. It’s quieter out here and more romantic with fairy lights strung overhead. It was definitely a good idea to come here.
There’s a few other couples on the patio, but each are enthralled in their own conversations and don’t pay any attention to us. Our hostess seats us at a table in the corner and gives us our menus before she leaves.
I look around in awe, delighted by the decor. It’s when I look back at our table that I notice Graham has just been watching me, with a grin on his face.
“What?” I ask, leaning my head onto my palm.
“It’s cute watching you discover stuff like this.” He gestures around the patio. “Stuff I’ve seen my whole life and have taken for granted.”
“I take it you’ve been here a time or two then,” I say before our waitress approaches. We both order water and then she’s on her way again.
“You could say that,” Graham says once she’s gone. “It was my parents’ favorite place. We came here every year for birthdays and anniversaries growing up. It’s just…the kind of place where you bring someone special.”
I smile at him while he talks. I probably look like a lovesick puppy, but I don’t care. It is incredibly sweet that he chose to bring me here when this place is associated with so many happy memories.
"Thank you for bringing me here,” I say quietly.
“Of course.” He picks up his menu. “Do you want recommendations?”
Our waitress returns with our drinks and complimentary breadsticks and salad. She leaves us again as I start to ponder the menu.
“Recommendations,” I say, getting overwhelmed with my choices.
“Alfredo is always a favorite,” Graham starts, “my mom loves the lasagna and says it’s to die for. My sisters like the ravioli and spaghetti, respectively.”
“Who likes which one?” I ask as I look up at him, thinking of when he first told me about Ginny and Betty. “It’s important to know their stance on pasta.”
He laughs again. “Betty is a big ravioli person. Even the cheap, canned kind. Ever since she was little, she’s been all about it. Ginny, on the other hand, is a spaghetti person. It’s classic and a staple. Kind of describes her, too.”
“And what about you?” I ask as I reach for a breadstick.
“I’m definitely a shrimp Alfredo kind of guy.”
I nod my head as I take a bite of bread.
“You?” he asks as he leans across the table.
“Alfredo,” I say after I swallow. “Plain and boring, that’s me!”
“Thea, you are not boring. In fact, I think you’re extraordinary.”
I feel my cheeks start to warm and I know it’s from his eyes on me and not the candle in the middle of the table.
“And how dare you insult the perfection of Alfredo,” he teases, reaching for a breadstick. He takes a bite and stares at me. “It’s all about mindset. It can be boring if you let it, but I prefer to think of it as dependable. A classic.”
“Dependable, huh?” I laugh.
He sets the breadstick down on the plate in front of him. “Are you nervous?” he asks as he leans back in his seat.
“A little bit,” I say breathlessly. I shuffle in my seat, watching another couple get seated. “Besides Jake, I’ve never actually been on a date before. And I wouldn’t necessarily call that one a success.”
“Well, hey.” Graham reaches for my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles. He cocks his head to the left a bit and adds, “This can be whatever you want it to be.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling even bigger than I already am.
Our waitress returns, takes our order and then takes off back to the kitchen. I busy myself with dishing out some salad as she walks away.
“How’s your mom?” I ask as Graham starts to serve himself some of the salad.
“She’s good,” he says, setting his plate down and letting out a breath. “She’s really excited I’m out with you.”
“Oh?”
“She hasn’t stopped talking about you since the festival.”
I laugh. “No pressure, right?”
Graham chuckles now. “None.” He picks up a forkful of salad. “I’m sure Raquel is just as excited as Mom.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”
“She’s been on me to ask you out since you first moved here.” He takes another careful bite.
Apparently, everyone wanted us together just like Judith wanted Charlie and Beth together.
“Well, hey,” I say, my fork scraping my plate. “At least you finally did.”
Graham opens his mouth to respond but is cut off when my phone rings.
“Sorry,” I say as I pick it up. It’s Beth; I know she wouldn’t be calling unless it were important.
“Hey,” I answer, slightly worried that something bad has happened.
“Hey,” she says, “I’m sorry to disturb your date but Charlie just called. They arrested Jake.”
“Really?” I ask. My eyes go wide and I look at Graham.
“James can’t fix this one for him. I didn’t want to wait to tell you. Figured you’d want to know.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Anyways, I’ll see you when you get home. I love you!”
“Love you, too.” I disconnect the call and set my phone back down on the table.
“Is everything okay?” Graham asks.
I nod. “Yeah, that was Beth. She said Jake got arrested.”
“Good,” he says with a smile. “I had faith in Sheriff Gajewski.”
“You can call him Charlie, ya know.” I don’t fight the grin that’s blooming on my face.
“It’s a respect thing for me.” He takes another bite of salad.
I nod. Graham is such a sweetheart.
“How are he and Beth doing?” he asks. “Everyone at work is curious.”
I stab my fork through some of the crunchy lettuce on my plate. “They’re good,” I say. “They’re finally getting it right.”
Graham reaches for my hand across the table and gently takes it in his. He rubs his thumbs over my knuckles.
“I think a few of us are finally getting it right.”