Her eyes flick over me, her smile growing wider.“Well, we’re happy to have you both for dinner.”She grabs two menus before waving us toward the back corner without even asking for a reservation.“Your table’s open.”
The corner booth sits tucked partially behind a wine rack, candlelight flickering warm yellow light across white tablecloths while Sinatra hums through hidden speakers overhead.It’s private without being isolated.Intimate without trying too hard.Very Hayden.
And of course, instead of sitting across from me, he slides into the booth beside me.Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the heat of him wraps around me anyway.
The waiter appears out of thin air with a bottle of red wine already in hand.“Would you like your usual order?”
Hayden glances toward me.“You want to change anything?”
The fact that he asks makes something inside me ache without warning.Because old Hayden wouldn’t have.I give a small shake of my head.“No.The usual is perfect.”
His gaze lingers on me another second before he nods once toward the waiter.Wine is poured.The candlelight flickers.Outside the windows, rain continues weeping over the city.
And somewhere between Hayden’s hand finding mine beneath the table and the familiar warmth of this place wrapping around us, I feel some of the distance I’ve been trying to create begin to slip away.
Which I know for me is dangerous.Especially because Hayden seems quieter tonight; more thoughtful, like there’s something sitting behind his eyes he hasn’t decided how to say yet.
“You’re staring at me,” I murmur before lifting my wineglass.
“You’re beautiful.”
His response is fast enough to unsettle me, causing my heart to skip against my chest.
“Careful,” I whisper.“You’re getting sentimental in your old age.”
“I’m thirty-three, Vanessa.”
“Basically ancient.”
A low laugh rumbles out of him before his thumb brushes once across my knuckles beneath the table.The gesture feels absurdly intimate.More intimate than sex.
The waiter arrives with our appetizers before silence can stretch too long between us, Hayden thanking him without ever taking his attention off me.
And I realize all at once what feels different tonight.He’s nervous.Not enough anyone else would notice.But I know him well enough not to see it in the tiny hesitations.The slight tension in his shoulders.The way his fingers keep tapping against his glass.The careful way he keeps looking at me like he’s trying to gauge something.
“Okay,” I turn toward him in the booth.“What’s happening in that head of yours?”
His eyes hold mine for a second longer than usual.Then, “I’m wondering if you’re free tomorrow night?”
The question catches me off guard for just a moment.Mostly because of the way he asks it.He’s not assuming or expecting.He’s asking.And somehow that tiny distinction matters more than it should.
“I could be,” I answer after a beat.
Something unreadable flickers across his face before he reaches for his wine again.“Years ago, you told me you danced ballet up until you started college.”
I blink.Because I barely recall that conversation.“You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you.”
God.The quiet sincerity in his voice hits me in a way that I have to look down at my wineglass before I lose my composure in the middle of this restaurant.
Hayden watches me for another second before continuing.“You also said you had never seen The Nutcracker performed by a major ballet company.”
My eyes snap up to his.That’s when I understand why he’s nervous.“I may have decided that feels unacceptable,” he admits on a shrug.
Warmth blooms across through my chest.“Hayden…”
“The Joffrey is performing it tomorrow night.”His thumb strokes against my hand again beneath the table.“I wondered if maybe you’d let me take you.”
