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I take a seat. “Thank you.”
He hands us our menus and nods to Jackson. “I’ll be right back with the champagne you requested with your reservation, monsieur.”
“Merci,” Jackson says in a perfect French accent.
I wait until we’re alone. “Jackson, what’s going on?”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I can’t take you out for a nice evening?”
I gesture to our surroundings. “Sure you can…but this is over the top. What’s the occasion?”
He waits to respond as our host returns with a corked bottle of champagne and two flutes. He fills each glass and sets the bottle in a bucket of ice next to our table.
“Would you like to hear our specials?”
Jackson shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
The waiter gives a short nod. “Very well. Olivia will be your serveuse this evening. She should be with you in a few moments.”
When our host exits the room I lean over the table. “Jackson, seriously. What’s going on? Why all the fanfare?”
He grabs my hand and begins stroking his thumb over my knuckles. “You’ve been working so hard lately and we’ve barely seen each other. I thought this would be nice.”
I sink into my chair with a knot in my stomach. “This is too much.”
He holds up his glass of champagne. “Just relax, Devyn. Should we toast?”
I grab my flute. “What should we toast to?”
He clinks his glass to mine. “To the future.”
I take a lengthy sip of bubbly without echoing the sentiment. Thankfully, Jackson doesn’t seem to notice. We eat dinner with polite small talk and share a dessert afterwards. The food was great and the atmosphere is lovely but I can’t escape this feeling of dread.
Jackson stands and offers his hand. “Dance with me.”
I look around the room. “There’s no dance floor.”
He helps me stand. “We don’t need one.”
He pulls me into him and we begin swaying to the instrumental music that is piped through the restaurant. He starts trailing kisses down my neck. Public displays of affection are very out of character for him.
“Jackson, what’s gotten into you tonight?”
He moves up my neck to nip my ear lobe. “You look so beautiful tonight I can’t help myself.” He pulls back and looks at me thoughtfully. “We haven’t made love in six weeks, Devyn. It’s been too long since we’ve been able to connect. I want to come home with you tonight.”
“Oh. Uh…I’m sorry; I’ve just been so busy at work.”
He trails his finger down my cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve been thinking about how to fix this problem we have. I know we talked about you moving in with me several times now but I think I finally understand your hesitation.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I do. I understand Nathan is your top priority. You’re an incredible mother…it’s one of the many things I love about you. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to rock the boat with him involved. A child needs stability. You don’t want to shack up with your boyfriend because there’s always that measure of uncertainty about the future.”
He does finally get it. “I couldn’t have said it any better myself.”
He smiles. “That’s why I came up with the perfect solution.”
“You did? What’s that?”
