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“You said you came here from Scotland when you were twelve,” she says. “Was that with your parents?”
Jamie glances at me in the rear-view mirror, surprised, I’m sure, that I admitted even that much to her.
“With my father,” I reply.
She nods. I’m sure she’s curious to know more, but she doesn’t push it, maybe sensing that I don’t like talking about my past.
“Here you go,” Jamie says, pulling over.
“Thanks.”
“Just text when you want picking up.”
“Will do, see you later.”
We get out, and Jamie gives us a wave, then drives off.
“We could get an Uber, save him coming out,” Sidnie suggests.
“He wouldn’t have that. He takes his duties very seriously.”
“You mentioned he has a girlfriend, right?”
I take her hand and lead her toward the restaurant. “Yeah, Emma. He lives with her in the apartment next to mine. You’d like her, she’s lovely, and she adores him. They look after Gus when I’m out, which is useful.”
“You’re obviously very close.”
“We’ve been through a lot together.” I gesture for her to precede me through the door.
The restaurant is on the corner of two pedestrian areas, and it’s always busy. It’s in one of the more affluent parts of the city and mostly frequented by rich business people who want to impress clients, or wealthy couples looking for something a little different. The two walls that face the street are filled with rectangular-paned windows from floor to ceiling, and two huge sliding doors in the middle allow access to a large outdoor seated area on pleasant evenings. A row of tables lines the main restaurant, but there are also a few tables surrounded by partitions that are a little more private.
Tonight, fairy lights blink on and off throughout the place, and a huge tree stands in the corner, the tinsel twinkling and the decorations bobbing as people walk by. Carols are playing softly in the background, and the air is filled with the scent of cinnamon and orange.
“Oh,” Sidnie says as we walk in. “Wow.”
It’s nearly Christmas, and peak time, so every table is filled, and a queue of people waits at the door. I lead Sidnie past them, and a guy in a black tux comes up to greet us.
“Dr. Hart,” he says, “Good evening.”
“Hey, Cesare.” I gesture at the beautiful woman blushing at my side. “This is Sidnie.”
“Good evening,” Cesare says, giving her a little bow. “Very nice to meet you, ma’am. This way, please.” He leads us past the queue of envious people and through the busy restaurant to the last remaining free table in one of the secluded areas. As we pass, every person in the room turns to look at us. I try not to smile smugly at having the most beautiful woman there all to myself.
“Goodness,” Sidnie says, sliding onto the chair that Cesare holds out for her. “I feel like a rock star.”
“We have a couple of Christmas parties tonight,” he apologizes, as a group further down the room fills the place with laughter.
“It’ll be the same all over the city,” she says. “And it makes for a great atmosphere.”
“Can I get you both a drink?” he asks.
“I think we’re going for a cocktail,” I reply, passing Sidnie the menu.
“Ooh, yes.” She glances down. “I’ll have a ‘Getting Caught in the Rain’, please.”
It’s a line from the old song, Escape, about liking pina colada. The cocktail contains pineapple rum, lime, mint, coconut, and soda.
“I’ll have a City Summer Night please.” Bourbon, blackberries, red wine, and lemon, wrapped up in an ‘elegant fruity sour with a hint of smoke’.
