The waitress arrives with our drinks, giving us a welcome interruption.As she walks away, I take a long sip of my tea, savoring the familiar taste that brings back memories of summer afternoons on Chase’s front porch.
“Everything looks so good,” I say as I look over the menu.“I want it all.”
“Let’s get a bit of everything, then.”He flags the waitress over and gives our order.She nods and offers him a friendly smile, then turns to me and takes my menu.She doesn’t even flinch with recognition.She doesn’t seem to recognize me like most people.It’s nice to have some anonymity for a change.
“So what’s Nashville like?”He asks.
“Busy but beautiful.It’s a great city.Have you ever been?”
He takes a moment to respond, then says, “No, I haven’t had much opportunity to travel.”
We each take a sip of our drinks.“So woodworking, huh?I remember you and your dad would sit on the porch and whittle things.”
“Yeah, it was our thing to do together.Then I took woodwork at school and just kept going from there.”He explains.
I listen attentively, happy that he has found something he is passionate about.Sometimes I feel guilty for pushing him to join my band when we were teenagers, but he never complained.He seemed to genuinely enjoy it; his natural talent as a musician is a rare gift.Now, Frankie and his friends are the lucky recipients of it.
“I’m glad you still make time to play guitar,” I say.
“Lucky for you, I guess.”He grins mischievously, and I am relieved that any awkwardness between us has dissipated.Perhaps it disappeared during rehearsal earlier today—music has a way of breaking down barriers and bringing people together.
“It’s a huge help, thank you.And don’t worry—I’ll make sure you are fairly compensated.”
“I’m doing it for the community, so instead of paying me, donate the money to them.They need it more than I do.I make enough from my business to get by.”His generosity and sincerity strike me once again; I had almost forgotten this about him.
Our food arrives, and a wide variety of plates are placed in front of us.A tower of steaming ribs is surrounded by sides like beans, coleslaw, and cornbread.
“I hope you have a big appetite,” he says with a smile as he offers me a plate of saucy pork ribs, the house specialty.
I take the plate and serve myself a generous portion.Then, with dramatic flair, I roll up my sleeves, grab a rib with both hands, and enjoy a satisfying bite.The flavor is so divine that I can’t help but let out a moan before setting the rib back on the plate and reaching for a napkin to clean up any sauce that may have escaped onto my face.I resist the urge to lick my fingers clean, trying to maintain some level of etiquette.
“You like it?”He’s been watching me and hasn’t touched his food yet.My cheeks heat, and I worry I missed some sauce.
“It’s so good.Messy to eat, but the best ribs I’ve had in a long time.”I reach across the table to get the cornbread—one of my all-time favorite foods—and his eyes drift to my uncovered forearm.
“Bay,” he says my name with a worried sigh.He’s seen the scar on my wrist.I withdraw my hand, put the plate down, and quickly roll my sleeve back in place.“Please just forget about it.”
His voice is soft and warm.“Bay, what happened to you?”
I look up at him and see something on his face that I haven’t seen in years—genuine concern.He’s not worried how the scars will affect his career, or his status in the industry.He genuinely is worried about me.
Which means he must still care.
I wipe my hands with the napkin.“Please don’t tell anyone.I can’t afford any more bad press.”
“I’d never say a word.I promise,” he says, and his eyes are so gentle.
I bite my bottom lip, considering my next words carefully.“Things have been tough since I left.I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of—things I regret.”My voice falters as memories flood back.“I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain, and there were times when I even tried to end it all.”Taking a deep breath, I continue.“But that’s all in the past now.I’m looking ahead and determined to make the most out of what’s left of my time on this Earth.”
We sit in silence for a moment as I hold his gaze.It’s hard for me to be vulnerable like this, but with Chase, I feel safe.Trusting people has never been easy for me, but with him, it comes naturally.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says gently, cleaning his hands before reaching over with his palm facing up.Hesitantly, I place my hand in his.He wraps his fingers around mine and gives a reassuring squeeze.Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I fight them back.“I’m here now,” he says simply, but his words mean everything.
Sniffing, I force a smile.“Come on.Let’s not let this delicious food go to waste.”
A grin spreads across his face.“Now that would be a tragedy.”
We eat and talk and share stories.It is the best meal and the best company I could ask for, and I never want it to end.At this moment, surrounded by good food and great company, I feel at peace.And I never want to lose this feeling again.
