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“I haven’t seen you since your dad’s wedding,” the guy—Andy—says. “How have you been?”
“Good.” Saylor smiles. “I graduated.”
“Yeah, the whole town heard.” Andy grins. “Sorry I missed the party earlier.”
There’s genuine regret on his face. Without asking, I’m positive he has history with her. Running into an ex was not exactly the note I wanted to start this night on.
“You didn’t miss much,” Saylor responds, then glances at me. “This is my boyfriend, Beck. Andy and I went to high school together.”
“And middle school. And elementary school. Plus kindergarten.” Andy grins, then shifts his attention to me and holds a hand out. “The famous soccer player. Nice to meet you, man.”
I force a smile as I shake his hand, my grip a little tighter than is really necessary. “The rest of the world calls it football.”
“Right, right. Logically, it makes sense, I guess.” Andy glances at Saylor. “What are you calling it these days?”
“The sport I win at,” she replies.
Andy grins. “Should have seen that answer coming.”
His tone—not to mention his expression—has turned way too admiring. I’m close to suggesting we find our table when Saylor beats me to it.
“Good to see you, Andy. Enjoy your dinner.”
She slips her hand into mine and then pulls me toward the hostess stand. I give my name for the reservation. The woman gawks at me a little before showing us to our table. She fills our drink glasses and passes out menus.
“Are you going to find anything to eat here?” Saylor asks as soon as she opens the menu.
I glance at her. And immediately forget what I was going to say. She’s literally glowing in the candlelight, her hair loose in golden waves. She changed into a different dress from the one she wore to her party earlier, this one darker and lower cut.
She’s stunning. I feel stunned, looking at her.
She looks up, catching me staring. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
When I don’t say anything else, her eyebrows lift. “Oh-kay. Well, did you hear me about the menu? Because I’m not seeing any sauerkraut or bratwurst or?—”
I snort. “You have a totally inaccurate impression of German food.”
“It can’t be that inaccurate. I lived there for two months, remember?”
“I remember.”
She’s offering me the perfect segue into discussing the future—bringing up our future. But before I can decide how to take it, the waitress appears to take our orders. By the time she leaves again, the moment has passed.
The rest of dinner is nice. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is romantic. But my nerves grow more with each passing minute.
I haven’t decided exactly how I’m going to do this. Saylor thrives as the center of attention, but certain kinds of it make her uncomfortable. When she’s visited me in Kluvberg and we’ve gotten photographed together, she’s hated it. And I want this to be a moment just for the two of us. Something special, but private. I’m leaving tomorrow, and this trip has been mostly celebratory concerning her college graduation without any serious conversations taking place between us. I don’t want to head back home without making it completely clear to her where I stand.
My phone buzzes in my pocket when we leave the restaurant. It’s a text from Sophia.
“Say hi to her from me,” Saylor says, spotting the name on the screen. “And that we missed her at the party.”
“I will,” I reply.
But I know Sophia isn’t texting to ask about the party. I took her with me to pick out the ring, and she’s texted me nonstop ever since asking when I was planning to propose. Hallie will probably message me next.
My steps automatically veer toward the parked car. Saylor pulls me in the opposite direction, toward a large brick building. Behind it, there’s a soccer field, the familiar form of a goal post visible from here.
