I knew we were just posting to make our exes jealous, and because the magazine had told us to. But this time, it didn’t really matter as much to me as it had before.
It was more important that Alex and I capture this moment we were having together and post it sowecould keep it permanently.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
We took a taxi back to the hotel when all our treatments were over. It was dark and cold and the fact I had wet underwear on didn’t much help. But I was feeling relaxed. More relaxed than I’d felt in forever. So relaxed that as we drove in the taxi, I was melting and sliding off the seat.
The aqua massage had been heavenly. Lying on my stomach, jets of warm spring water being sprayed over my body. My skin felt creamy and soft, as if the spring water really did have an effect on it. The manicure had done me the world of good too, not to mention also being a source of great entertainment, as I watched Alex getting his first one. He’d hated the way the nail file had felt and had cringed the whole way through it.
By the time we got back to the hotel we were both starving. So after a quick change, we met at the restaurant inside the main hotel. But before our menus came, the waitress asked if we wanted to choose our own wine.
I gazed over at Alex. “Fancy, but I know nothing about wine,” I said.
“Lucky for you then that I do,” he replied, standing and following the waitress. The fact that Alex knew about wine added to that air of sophistication that he had, I think without even knowing he had it. People with those kinds of airs are usually only too aware of them, changing that sophistication into something resembling snobbishness. But Alex didn’t have that. Instead, his was subtle and very attractive. We followed the waitress into the old cellar, which looked more like a creepy, underground crypt, the kind you might find skeletons lurking in.
“We make and bottle our own wine here,” the waitress said, pulling out several different bottles of red wine. “This area is renowned for its vineyards and wineries.”
A big, old wooden table stood in the center of the room, Alex and I pulled up two stools and sat down. The waitress took out some glasses and laid them in front of us. The air in this room was old, dusty and woody, much like the museum had been.
She uncorked one of the wines and poured us two small glasses. “I’ve never really liked red wine,” I whispered over to Alex, hoping the waitress wouldn’t hear me.
“Then you’ve never drunk the right kind in the right way,” he whispered back to me.
“And how is it meant to be drunk?” I asked.
Alex turned. His eyes sought out mine, and once he’d found them, he locked onto them. “Just like this. In a dusty cellar, surrounded by old bottles and barrels and, the most important part, it needs to be drunk with good company.” He smiled at me.
“So, I’m good company then?” I asked playfully. His next response stopped my playfulness immediately, as well as my heart.
“The best.” He said it with such authority. As if this was an irrefutable fact, like who the current president was or that the sky was blue.
“Oh,” I managed feebly. My voice had a slight coy edge to it. “You’re good company too. The best,” I said.
Alex looked over at me. The warm orange light in the cellar was making his gray eyes a shade of brown. Not a muddy, dull brown, but something rich and vibrant and chestnut. We smiled at each other. His smile was different somehow. Broad. Unrestrained. Open. As if he was trying to show me something. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the waitress smiling at us.
“So I’ve poured you our famous Pinot Noir,” she said. Then she took another bottle out and placed it on the table. “This is our Malbec, and this . . .” she placed another bottle on the table, “is our blend.” She started moving away from us and I wondered where she was going. “I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled again. “You can come back up when you’ve tasted them and when you’re ready . . .” She said that last part with a smile in her voice and then closed the door behind her. She was gone.
The atmosphere immediately changed. And as if they too were responding to the change, the lights flickered on and off quickly. A little shiver passed through me, but I didn’t feel cold. Suddenly the room felt so much smaller than I knew it really was, as if the walls were closing in and moving us closer towards each other. I became acutely aware of Alex next to me. The back of my knees itched and I scratched them quickly.
“I would find this place totally creepy right now if you weren’t here,” I said, reaching for the glass of wine and raising it to my mouth.
“Whoa!” Alex reached out and stopped me with his hand dramatically. “What are you doing? There is a way of doing this,” he said, forcing me to lower my glass back down to the table.
“First we look at it.” Alex swirled his glass around and held it up, looking deeply into it. I copied him, not sure what the hell I was looking for.
“We’re looking at the color of it.” Alex held a white napkin up behind the glass and scrutinized it further. I did the same while trying to bite back a smile. I felt so silly and out of my depth doing this.
“Now swirl,” he said, swirling the wine around in the glass elegantly. I tried to copy him and splashed it all over my hand.
“Ooops,” I said, and licked the wine off my finger.
Alex shot me a playful, disapproving look. “Definitely,nothow you do it.” He shook his head at me. “Now we smell.” He raised the glass to his nose and took a deep breath in. I watched in fascination for a moment. He looked so committed to this moment, as if he was concentrating one hundred percent on it. I lowered my nose to the glass, taking a whiff. Again, I had no idea what I was smelling for.
“And now, we sip. Put it in your mouth for a while. Swirl it around slowly, and then only do you swallow.”
I lifted it to my lips and finally took a small sip. I swirled it around my mouth, as I’d been instructed to do. And then swallowed.
“Do you taste it?” Alex asked.
