“Regiano’s,” he replies. “I hope you like Italian food.” He glances at me and winks.
Notably, the same restaurant that Charlie and Beth had their first date at. It’s the fanciest restaurant in town. I’ve heard it’s decent, but not as good as the diner, according to Beth’s customers. Though, they might be a tad biased.
We make small talk all the way to Regiano’s. Graham parks the golf cart at the back of the restaurant. He jumps off, pocketing the key, and jogs around to my side before I know it. He offers me his hand to help me off and I lay the daisies on the seat. I smooth my hair down as we walk around to the front door. Butterflies dance inmy stomach as we hold hands; I can feel my palms getting clammy already.
Regiano’s closely resembles Olive Garden, one thing I do miss about Seattle. There aren’t many chain restaurants here in Driftbay, just locally-owned places like Beth’s.
A hostess clad in all black smiles as she sees us approach.
“Hi!” she says enthusiastically. “Table for two?” She glances at the computer on the station in front of her.
Graham nods, still holding my hand.
“Would you like inside or outside?” she asks.
“Outside,” he says.
The hostess nods and leads us through the crowded restaurant and out onto the patio. It’s quieter out here and more romantic with fairy lights strung overhead. It was definitely a good idea to come here.
There’s a few other couples on the patio, but each are enthralled in their own conversations and don’t pay any attention to us. Our hostess seats us at a table in the corner and gives us our menus before she leaves.
I look around in awe, delighted by the decor. It’s when I look back at our table that I notice Graham has just been watching me, with a grin on his face.
“What?” I ask, leaning my head onto my palm.
“It’s cute watching you discover stuff like this.” He gestures around the patio. “Stuff I’ve seen my whole life and have taken for granted.”
“I take it you’ve been here a time or two then,” I say before our waitress approaches. We both order water and then she’s on her way again.
“You could say that,” Graham says once she’s gone. “It was my parents’ favorite place. We came here every year for birthdays and anniversaries growing up. It’s just…the kind of place where you bring someone special.”
I smile at him while he talks. I probably look like a lovesick puppy, but I don’t care. It is incredibly sweet that he chose to bring me here when this place is associated with so many happy memories.
"Thank you for bringing me here,” I say quietly.
“Of course.” He picks up his menu. “Do you want recommendations?”
Our waitress returns with our drinks and complimentary breadsticks and salad. She leaves us again as I start to ponder the menu.
“Recommendations,” I say, getting overwhelmed with my choices.
“Alfredo is always a favorite,” Graham starts, “my mom loves the lasagna and says it’s to die for. My sisters like the ravioli and spaghetti, respectively.”
“Who likes which one?” I ask as I look up at him, thinking of when he first told me about Ginny and Betty. “It’s important to know their stance on pasta.”
He laughs again. “Betty is a big ravioli person. Even the cheap, canned kind. Ever since she was little, she’s been all about it. Ginny,on the other hand, is a spaghetti person. It’s classic and a staple. Kind of describes her, too.”
“And what about you?” I ask as I reach for a breadstick.
“I’m definitely a shrimp Alfredo kind of guy.”
I nod my head as I take a bite of bread.
“You?” he asks as he leans across the table.
“Alfredo,” I say after I swallow. “Plain and boring, that’s me!”
“Thea, you are not boring. In fact, I think you’re extraordinary.”
