Page 82 of Trial and Error

Elias rests his forehead against my own and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose. “Like, a real one?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “A real one. One where we don’t have to pretend and we can just be us. I wasn’t kidding the other day when I said there’s no going back now. Plus, I think it’s important that I take you out on at least one date before our wedding.”

I nod, but I can’t ignore the tense feeling that begins to form in the pit of my stomach. “Sounds good,” I hum through a tight-lipped smile.

Elias doesn’t pick up on my terseness and pulls back to look down at me with an adoring expression. “There’s this nice restaurant here that I stumbled upon one time when I was out with my brother, and I think you’d love it. We should go tonight.”

The smile I give him doesn’t quite reach my eyes, and if he notices he doesn’t comment on it as he tugs on my arm and pulls me up the trail. I try to keep my mind off the dread filling me from head to toe as we spend the rest of the day together, but can’t help but let my mind succumb to the negative thoughts. The thoughts that make me feel like a bad person and the ones that have my questioning my own morality.

Even though a small part of me feels shameful, I don’t want to stop being with him because the more time I spend with him, the more I realize how wonderful it would be to love him—and I’m not ready to let that go just yet.

elias

The restaurant is small and tucked in between a library and a coffee shop. Bridget slips her hand in mine as we walk from the car into the building. A woody and leathery smell engulfs us as soon as we walk over the threshold and we’re immediately greeted with a homey atmosphere. The young kid stands behind a small wooden counter, his elbows resting on the top with a bored expression on his face but as soon as his gaze lands on Bridget, his cheeks flush a deep red and he stands up, his back ramrod straight.

The boy is no older than fifteen, but he sure as hell takes his time letting his gaze run over Bridget’s figure, and I can’t say I blame the kid. When she came downstairs dressed in this short dress that hugged her so decadently, I had to refrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her back upstairs to our bedroom.

My hand skates across her lower back and curves around her hip, and I watch as the boy’s gaze snags on my hand. His eyes flicker up to meet my own and widen when he sees he’s been caught. The red from his cheeks moves further up into his blond hairline and he tucks his head down, fumbling with some menus.

“G-Good evening,” he stutters, cursing under his breath when he trips over something. “Do you have a reservation?”

I nod. “Cohen,” I reply, watching as he looks down at the planner that lays open on the top of the counter.

He holds a pencil to the paper and drags it down the page until he lands on my name and then puts a tick next to it. Kieran—according to his name tag—leads us through the restaurant to a table in front of the window. He places our menus on the table, nods, and then quickly walks away back to the host desk.

I pull out a chair for Bridget and enjoying the way she puts her hand on top of mine before sliding into the light wooden chair. As I take the seat opposite her, I take in our surroundings.

The restaurant is small with light wood tables adorned with terracotta tablecloths. The walls are light which gives the illusion that the space is larger than it actually is. My eyes move over to where Bridget sits opposite me, her gaze flicking around the room.

“It’s lovely here,” she says. “How did you say you knew about this place?”

I move the menus from their pile and place one in front of her. “My brother and I came here on a double date when we were younger. She was from here and the only reason I had gone was because he was trying to sleep with her cousin.” I chuckle at the memory. “But that was many moons ago.”

Bridget quirks an eyebrow, a teasing look on her face. “Oh, who was the special lady?”

“Her name was Leah,” I tell her. “We ended up dating for six years or so after that. We met when we were both juniors in high school, and back then we’d only see each other when my family was here on vacation. As we got older, we’d both make the trips back and forth whenever we could.”

Bridget tilts her head to the side. “Why did you guys break up?”

I shrug. “We wanted different things. She wanted to go travelling and that wasn’t something I was interested in. We tried long distance when we were at university and that was difficult for us, so when she told me she wanted to do long distance again, I shut it down. It wasn’t something I was comfortable with.”

She hums. “Have you seen her since?”

“When I was twenty-five. I was out with Oscar at a bar in Vancouver and she happened to walk in with some girlfriends. She was having her bachelorette party, met some guy in Spain and fell head over heels in love.”

A waiter comes over with a smile on his face as he looks between us. “Can I get you two something to drink?”

I order us a bottle of red for the table and he comes back a few moments later with a bottle of rioja and takes our order. Bridget smiles softly as the waiter makes a suggestion and she takes his advice, ordering the mushroom risotto. She reaches across the table and places her hand on top of mine. I take her hand in mine and run my thumb over the ring that adorns her ring finger.

She looks over at me, her face illuminated by the flickering candle in the middle of the table. The warm hues from the flame cast a beautiful glow across her pale skin, her eyes bright under the light.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, basking in the way her cheeks turn pink. “How’re you feeling about the wedding?”

Bridget puffs out a breath. “Elias,” she whispers. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, I just…” She pauses and takes a sip of her wine, holding on to the glass with her free hand.

I can tell what she’s trying to say is hard for her, so I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb and wait patiently. “When I was with Tom, I was so desperate for this—the wedding and the family—and I just assumed it was never meant for me, and that I wasn’t meant to be married.”

I frown, opening my mouth to speak, but she starts talking again before I can get a word in.