Page 45 of Everlasting Vows

I smile to myself as I close the door and round the front of my vehicle. When I climb inside and turn on the ignition, the playlist I chose for our ride starts automatically. Abbi doesn’t seem to notice as I place my arm behind her and reverse down our driveway to the road. We’re both quiet as the sounds of Madonna’s Vogue fill the cabin, and I head toward what used to be our favorite restaurant for date nights. I can’t even remember the last time I took Abbi on a date. Work commitments have ruled my life when I should have let my employees step up and take on more responsibility so I could focus on my family. I’ve already missed too much time with them all because of my years in the Rangers. Now that I’m home permanently, there’s no excuse to be absent.

The song changes to King of Wishful Thinking by Go West, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Abbi face me, her lips widening a little. “These songs take me back to good times.”

I look at her. “My evil plan is working then,” I say with a wink.

We both chuckle, and she reaches across to slap my thigh playfully. I capture her hand and hold it in place, taking it as a win when she doesn’t pull away. A familiar comfort I took for granted settles between us as I rub my thumb back and forth across her soft skin to the beat, while she hums the tune coming from the speakers.

We pull into the parking lot to George Michael and the smile that lights up my wife’s face could sustain me for the rest of my days. “Oh, Nix. We haven’t been here in so long.” The way she’s practically bouncing in her seat reinforces that I made the right choice for tonight.

“I know.” I find an empty spot, park, and turn off the engine, then swivel in my seat so I’m facing her. “I’ll apologize every day for the rest of my life for taking our relationship for granted. For taking you for granted. I hope I can earn your heart again,” I tell her, hoping she can hear my promise to do better … be better in my voice. “I know I can do better. Be a better husband.”

Her smile falls, and the joy that was in her eyes a few moments ago is nowhere to be seen. I did that. I stole her joy. Again. “Nix.” She wraps her hand over mine and squeezes—she may as well be squeezing my heart—pausing until our eyes lock. “Both of us can do better.” She leans forward and softly presses her lips against mine. It’s barely a butterfly touch, but I feel it all the way to the deepest recesses of my soul … the connection I always feel when I’m with Abbi. It’s still there for me, and I can only hope it’s still there for her.

We study each other for a long moment, and then her lips tip up a little, and I think we’re okay … for now. I just need to ensure my head stays out of my ass, and I may have a chance at saving my marriage. “Shall we?”

She nods and unclips her seatbelt. I take my cue to climb out and head around to open her door, like the gentleman my mother raised me to be. Once her feet are on the ground, I lock my truck and link my fingers through my wife’s, grateful when she lets me. We walk along the cracked sidewalk, and I pull the door open, guiding Abbi inside toward the hostess with my hand resting low on her back.

A woman about our age with jet-black hair greets us with a warm smile. “Welcome to Parable. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, we do. Nixon Steele.”

She checks her tablet, then smiles at us. “Certainly. Please follow me, and I’ll show you to your table.” She grabs a couple of menus and a bottle of water with two glasses. We weave through tables to the outdoor area. The place is packed. No surprise there; this restaurant has won several awards. When we step outside, I notice the garden is more established and lush than it was several years ago when we first came here. Thick vines grow over trellis beams, and a sea of fairy lights creates a romantic ambiance. Palms and ferns grow in large pots, and candles flicker on each table. Being open to the night air, it’s cooler out here, but the outdoor heaters ensure it’s not uncomfortable.

Abbi’s head swivels this way and that, taking everything in. Her hand squeezes mine, and I’m thrilled to see her smile back in place. The hostess stops at a table that is at the far end of a deck and has a semblance of privacy, as per my request; I’ll leave an extra tip to show my appreciation. It’s quieter here, without walls and a ceiling to trap everyone’s voices.

The hostess places the water and glasses on the table, then tips her head. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” we both say.

I pull out Abbi’s chair so she can sit, then kiss the top of her head, drawing in her signature scent. She’s worn the same perfume I bought for her when she turned eighteen. I’d saved a portion of my paycheck for two months to be able to afford it, but it was worth every single penny to see the wonder on her face when she opened the wrapping paper. Drawing the delicate floral fragrance into my nose brings forth a million memories of me and Abbi. Happy times together spanning decades. Like when she fell off my skateboard, I had to carry her off the road because her hands and knees were bleeding badly. She didn’t shed a single tear as she chastised me for babying her. I just wanted any excuse to hold her close, and I was smart enough to grab onto the opportunity.

By the time I’ve made it around to my seat, Abbi’s filled our glasses with water and is opening the menu. “I wonder if they still have the mushroom and chicken risotto. As much as I try to replicate it at home, I just can’t get it to taste the same.”

A lie. There’s nothing Abbi can’t cook to perfection.

I nod. “They do. I checked when I made the reservation.”

Abbi pauses, studying me closely, and it takes everything not to squirm beneath her scrutiny. “I can’t believe you remember my favorite dish here,” she murmurs, fidgeting with her linen napkin. “It’s been such a long time.”

I reach across and weave my fingers through hers. “I remember everything, Abs.” I just do a shit job of showing her that.

Her eyes trace over every inch of my face, the flickering candle between us casting a golden glow over her features as I study her in return. She’s so beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, but as she’s grown older, there’s wisdom in her gaze, and the wrinkles around her eyes caused by smiling—because my Abbi … she used to smile all the time—only add to her appeal.

I catch the waiter stopping at our table from the corner of my eye. “Would you like to order any drinks?” He looks between us, waiting for our answer.

I order a craft beer for myself and a glass of Smith-Madrone Riesling for Abs, and the waiter disappears with a slight tip of his head. Once we’re alone again, silence falls over our table, and I struggle to find something to talk about. I’ve never been one to talk much, and it wasn’t until Abbi gave up leading our conversations that I realized how weak my conversational skills are. I don’t want to get into my planned discussion straight away. I figure I’ll ease into it somewhere between our main meal and dessert. I pick up my menu for something to do, though I already know what I want after studying the menu online—Wagyu steak with a garlic butter potato stack, and asparagus spears seared in lemon honey sauce. My mouth waters thinking about it.

“There it is!” Abs exclaims, her eyes twinkling at me above her menu. “I can almost taste the creamy dish already.” She giggles and the sound sings through my bloodstream, making a direct hit on my heart.

The waiter brings our drinks, then takes our food order, disappearing again. I raise my beer toward Abbi, who takes the hint and raises her wine. “To date nights with my beautiful wife.” I tap my bottle against Abbi’s glass.

“To date nights,” she murmurs, then we both take a sip, keeping our eyes locked on each other. While her eyes sparkle from the candlelight, she can’t hide the wariness in them. I don’t blame her. I haven’t given her a reason to trust my intentions—yet. But I plan to. I plan to show Abbi that she’s the most important person in the world to me. More important than having a successful business. Hell, I could sell the business tomorrow, and we’d be set for life. Neither of us would have to work and could spend all our days embarking on adventures together, but I doubt either of us wants me to give up my business. It’s more about establishing a proper balance.

My mind spins for something to discuss; however, starting a conversation isn’t my strong suit, as I’ve discovered over the last several weeks. Finally, I land on something we’re both invested in. “What do you think of the work Theo’s done so far?”

Abbi stops twisting the stem of her glass, her facial muscles and shoulders relaxing a little. I’m not the only one who feels tense and unsure. It feels good that I’m not the only one, not that I’m happy my wife is tense, it’s just that maybe this date means as much to her as it does to me. “He does beautiful work. I watch him measuring, checking, and measuring again. Every single cut of his saw is precise, and I think the quality of his craftsmanship shows.” She sighs. “We’re going to have a beautiful backyard when it’s all finished.”

“That we are. We should have done it years ago.” Guilt washes over me again. It’s something Abbi wanted us to do soon after we bought the house. She wanted to make it our oasis—our little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of life beyond our property—but I was always too focused elsewhere. First with the Army Rangers, then with Steele Security. It’s yet another way I let my wife down.