Bistro 2520 wasn’t far. Walking distance on a clear day, but she was getting more nervous by the minute. She grabbed her purse and left, trying to pace herself to pass more time along the way, even stopping to look at this week’s special cupcakes and goodies in the bakery window that opened a few weeks back. They were like artwork.
Normally she rushed down this street on her way to the office. It had been a long time since she’d taken pause to appreciate the architecture, and were the storefront windows decorated like this yesterday? Today each boasted upcoming Black Friday sales.
When she stepped inside the bistro, she was still ten minutes early.
“May I seat you?”
So nervous she could barely swallow, she said, “I’m actually waiting for someone. Maybe something quiet. In the corner?”
The maître d’ offered a playful grin, clearly recognizing her. “I can seat you now,” he said, motioning her to follow.
He pulled out her chair. At least from here she had a clear view of the front door. “Someone will be right with you to take your order from the bar.”
“Thank you.”
A waiter she didn’t recognize approached. “I’m Dash. Can I get you something from the bar?”
“I’d better stick to water. Straight up,” she joked. “With lemon, please. It’s been a lemon of a day.”
“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade, right?” His smile revealed a row of perfect teeth.
“Better make it a double lemonade then.”
“I can make that happen.” He laughed as he scribbled on his pad. “Sure you don’t want some vodka in that to make you feel better?”
“Positive. You can bring it in a pretty glass with a fancy garnish, though.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
Robert walked in, just as the waiter walked away. Dark suit, white shirt so starched it still crackled at the end of the day, a fantastic tie, and shiny leather shoes. Except for the vibrant collection of snappy ties, he always dressed the same. She was in blue jeans, boots, and a cable-knit sweater. It was a warmish fifty degrees out. Nice for this time of year.
He took the seat across from her as the waiter came back with her lemonade. His brow rose.
The waiter acknowledged him. “Would you like something from the bar?”
“I’ll have a bourbon. Neat.” His eyes darted at the curvy glass in front of her. “What are you drinking?”
“Lemonade,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.” He didn’t look as handsome with the sour-grapes look on his face.
“I don’t know where to start.” The waiter set down Robert’s drink and backed away exchanging an awkward smile with Vanessa. She pushed her hair over her ear. “Robert, I have to know something. Do you really love me?”
He leaned back, as if looking for an answer floating in the room. “We’ve been together for almost four years. We’ve talked about marriage. Yes, I love you.”
“Why?”
“What? Why is this coming up now?” He took a long sip. “You’re not going to turn this around on me.”
“No. That’s not what I’m doing. I’ve been thinking.”
“That I don’t love you?”
“No.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. This wasn’t going well. “You’re a great guy. Smart, handsome, and it’s wonderful how we can be there for each other’s work events…”
“I agree. We fit. You’re pretty. Intellectual enough to carry on a conversation with my partners or clients without embarrassing me. I like doing things with you.”
