A restaurant with a valet? This place is even snazzier than I originally believed.
Xander guides me inside and straight to the hostess.
“Reservation for Kincaid,” he tells her.
She looks at us questioningly, probably noting our young age, before her gaze drops to the list. “Ah, here you are.” She turns sharply on her heel and expects us to follow.
My heels clack against the black marble floor and my eyes keep roaming over the white walls and chrome fixtures. It looks like something out of a Bond movie.
The restaurant is large, with many seating areas that are somehow designed so they seem relatively private, and the kitchen is viewable to the eating area through a thick glass wall.
She leads us to a table near the kitchen in a prime spot to watch all the action.
Xander pulls out my chair for me and I mumble a thank you.
“Enjoy your meal,” she says, handing us our menus.
I take the menu from her and open it up, nearly falling out of my chair at the prices. “Xander,” I hiss. “I’m going to have to sell a kidney to be able to afford this meal.”
He chuckles. “Nah, I got it. Don’t worry.” And then he winks, fucking winks at me like it’s no big deal, which I guess to him it’s not. But I still don’t want him spending his hard-earned money on a meal this expensive.
“Xander—” I start.
“Thea,” he says my name the same way I said his. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures me. “I want us to enjoy tonight and not worry about the little things.”
I press my lips together and say no more. A waiter comes and we both order water and Xander also requests a bottle of wine. I’m surprised when the waiter doesn’t card either of us—Xander’s legal, but I’m not—but I choose not to say anything.
By the time the waiter returns, I’ve picked out a pasta meal that I can’t even pronounce and definitely can’t spell, but it sounds good so that’s what matters.
“Have you all decided?” he asks us, motioning to our menus sitting on the other side of the table.
I nod and point to what I want—no way am I butchering the Italian name for the pasta, and Xander orders a steak.
When the waiter leaves, I reach for my wine glass and hope Xander doesn’t notice the slight shake to my hand. I don’t know why I’m nervous. This is Xander—a guy I’ve known my whole life, and the last two weeks have been great, but this right here makes what we’re doing real. This isn’t us sneaking around the house behind our friends’ backs, or secretive glances exchanged at the office, this is us out in the open exposing ourselves as a real couple. We’re not hiding and that makes me nervous. I mean, I doubt anyone we know would see us here anyway, but it still feels slightly dangerous.
Xander toys with the napkin in his lap, and I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am.
I sip a big gulp of wine and nearly choke.
That’s enough wine for now, I think to myself and set the glass on the table.
Xander sips at his own glass, sets it down, and taps his fingers on the table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Just when I can’t take the awkward silence between us anymore, he blurts, “I have to tell you something.”
My heart momentarily stops with fear at what he might be about to say. Illogical thoughts run through my mind.
He’s changed his mind and wants the divorce right now and he brought me to this nice restaurant to soften the blow.
He has a secret love child.
He hates cheese.
“I got drafted for the Broncos.”
Wait? What? “Yeah,” I say hesitantly. “I already know.” His eyes widen in surprise. I think he was expecting me to scream and throw my wine at him or something. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?” I ask for clarification and he nods.