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The maître d' checks on us once more, offering Sasha more breadsticks. She's munching happily when the front door opens, the gilded entry chimes tinkling overhead, and her eyes light up with excitement as she yells. "Harper!"
Harper spots us with a smile, and my heart skips a beat. I stare openly, taking her in from head to toe as she approaches. She still wears the same fitted button-up shirt I last saw her in, but the top two buttons are undone and it's untucked. She's more relaxed now, carrying herself with more ease than she does at the office.
The smile that Sasha directed at her is now aimed at me, "You're staring, Daddy."
The sound of her voice immediately snaps me out of my stupor. I clear my throat before Sasha can look at Harper with that same knowing expression. "Of course I am," I whisper, covering my embarrassment with the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm excited to see Harper, just like you."
My quick save works, and Sasha returns to her seat. Harper waits until Sasha is comfortable again before extending her hand and resting it on my daughter's shoulder. She smiles softly. "Hey there, you two. Are you keeping yourselves in line without me around?"
Sasha leans into Harper's arm. "Yes," she says. Then she pauses, thinking as she stares up at Harper. "We're being good, but Grandpa says it's boring to always stay in line. So we didn't do that. We don't want to be boring."
The laugh I hear come out of Harper’s mouth is sweeter than anything I've ever heard before, and I grin as I watch them together. It's clear that something very special has developed between them.
"Well then," Harper says, not reacting to Sasha's declaration other than to give my little girl the biggest smile I've ever seen. "You're being good and having fun. Just how it should be."
She glides the hand Sasha is currently not leaning against across the table and lands it on top of the open menu in front of her. My eyes are instantly drawn to that movement. For a few beats, my gaze snags on her hand as thoughts about those delicate fingers running through my hair again flitter through my brain.
It takes me several seconds to wrestle control of my thoughts and put them back in place. Meanwhile, Harper offers Sasha some suggestions on what she's heard is good to order. My daughter takes Harper's suggestions happily and goes with the chicken alfredo and a juice.
Then, Harper picks up the menu and looks it over. "I haven't had a chance to try this place yet," she tells me. "It's a pretty new addition to town." Her fingers flit down the laminated sheet, and her eyes scan the page.
"Yeah, I gathered as much. This doesn't look like the kind of place you'd typically find in Greenwood."
Harper turns her attention from the menu to study the interior again. "No, I suppose it doesn't. The owners are from New York, I hear. There’s a pair of twin sisters who run the show. Well, that's what I was told, anyway."
Sasha bounces in her seat as her eyes go wide. "Did you hear that from the Red Hat Ladies? They talk about everybody."
It's my turn to laugh. "Oh yeah, who told you that?"
"We saw them at the restaurant," Sasha explains. "Miss Harper says they like to gossip a lot."
"Well, if Miss Harper says so, it must be true. I trust her judgment."
Sasha bobs her head in agreement. "Me too. Miss Harper knows everything about the resort. That's what she's in charge of."
We both steal a glance in her direction, and I notice that Harper's cheeks have turned a healthy shade of pink. "Yeah, she's really good at her job," I comment in admiration. "She's been doing a great job running the resort."
Harper shifts in her seat, looking somewhere else–anywhere else–other than at Sasha and me. "Thank you," she turns to Sasha. "But it's actually your daddy that runs the resort. And with him back, things will be better than ever."
I don't know if she's just saying that for Sasha's sake or if she means it. But before I get the chance to dig into the comment further, the waiter appears to take our order. Harper orders the Lasagna and a water for herself. I order the chicken Parmesan and a cola along with Sasha’s Alfredo and juice.
Our drinks are brought to the table shortly after that, and for a few minutes, none of us say anything while we sip. But eventually, the conversation picks up again when Sasha asks to be excused to use the bathroom.
"Are you sure you can find it?" I ask her, looking around for a sign that will help her figure out which direction to head in.
"I see a bathroom sign," she replies. She doesn't need another green light because she no longer wants help and heads straight for the restroom, leaving me alone with Harper.
I can feel the tension between us, but this time, it doesn't hurt. It feels exciting, expectant. As if we're both holding back and waiting to see who will be the first one to cave and make a move. When my daughter is gone, I can feel her studying me as her brown eyes roam across my face.
I meet her gaze, and a beat goes by without either of us saying anything. Her heart-shaped lips part, and a breath escapes her mouth. Then her eyebrows raise slightly, and her eyes searchmine. There's a question there now. And a want. Maybe even a need.
"Say what you're thinking," I tell her. I lick my lips, and my heart jumps into my throat. In a rough voice, I encourage her, "Please."
"I—" Her breath catches, and her hand reaches up, her fingers finding a tendril of hair and pushing it behind her ear. "I just want to apologize again in person for speaking to you the way I did the other day. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you like that."
The words are sincere, and I soften. My shoulders loosen. My jaw unclenches. "You were angry," I reply and face her directly. "Maybe you had a right to be angry. I should've given you the space to do your job without interfering. I'm sorry for barging in and throwing things into chaos without giving you a chance first."
"Thank you," she says, dropping her gaze to her hands on the table. "I appreciate that."
