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Stede’s is packed, even though it’s Monday and we still have several weeks until the summer season kicks off. I don’t recognize anyone right off the bat. Young families and older couples sit on the deck overlooking the marina. A few kids run around on the sidewalk, pointing at an alligator’s head that pops up beside a nearby boat.
It’s all so normal.
Meanwhile, my world’s been turned on its head. I don’t do relationships, but now I have a wife. I don’t hold hands, but I do with Jen.
Gentleness is not in my vocabulary. But I’m able to be gentle with her, my grip firm enough to keep her close but careful enough not to spook her. She’s not touching her ring.
Her cheeks arebrightpink, however.
Some men look up at her as we pass the patio. No fucking surprise there, she’s stunning. I still want to rip their fucking heads off.
Why I want that ring on her finger.
I glare at them before opening the door for Jen. My heart seesaws when she drops my hand and steps inside. Am I disappointed? Worried one of those assholes will rush in before I can claim her again?
Gina, the hostess, smiles when she sees me. “Hey, Abel! Icouldn’t believe it when I saw your name pop up on a reservation for a table tonight.”
“I usually sit at the bar,” I explain when Jen looks up at me. “But then again, I’m not usually here on a date, so.”
Jen’s throat works as she swallows. “I’m happy to belly up to the bar together. Actually, I kind of prefer that.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” Jen smiles at Gina. “Two for the bar, please.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief as we follow Gina to the long, marble-topped bar at the other end of the restaurant. It’s a safer bet to sit there. I can always chat up the bartender—tonight it’s Howie—if the conversation between Jen and me gets awkward.
If it gets too good.
Jen’s brow creases when I pull out a leather barstool for her. “Thank you.”
“You look confused.” I push it back in when she’s seated.
She picks up her menu. Her diamond glints in the bar’s low, moody lighting. “I’m just... learning.”
“Learning what?” I sit on the stool beside hers. Glance at her bare thigh beneath the bar. Too much if I put my hand there?
I really wanna put my hand there. Which means I shouldn’t. So I don’t.
“How nice it feels to have doors opened for you and chairs pulled out.”
I frown, a searing sensation not unlike heartburn working its way up my windpipe. “Good thing you’re done with situationships.”
“Good thing.” She looks at me. We’re sitting close, closer than we normally would if we were out as friends, and I’m struck by how much I like it.
Ilikethe pull of her body on mine.Likethe idea that no one would fucking dare come near her because I’m here and she’s mine. “Do we start with cocktails, then move to wine?”
“Whatever you want.”
Her eyes catch on my mouth before she turns to smile at Howie. “Aperol spritz for me, please.”
“Usual for me,” I add, and drape my arm over the back of her stool. My fingers brush her bare arm.
I see her shoulders go stiff as her breath catches. My heart twists. I drop my arm but she shakes her head. “No. Keep it there.”
“You sure?”
She nods. When her drink comes, she takes a big swallow. “How’s your eye feeling?”
