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The restaurant itself was half-full, the waiters and waitresses moving quickly and quietly among the tables. Conversation spilled through the room, a low, even hum like electricity crawling through the walls. It was usually always so crowded. He thought most everyone was probably still at home, wrapped up tightly in the postholiday blues.
The hostess pulled out a stool for him at the bar and offered to take his jacket and umbrella. “I’ll keep them in the coat closet near the front,” she said. “That way, you won’t have to worry about them during your dinner. And no one gets in the closet without a key, so.” She smiled up at him again.
He couldn’t help but agree.
“Wait,” he said as she started walking away. “Just… I’ve got something. In the pocket. Can you…?”
She handed him the coat, the scarf still in her hands, glancing back toward the hostess stand. He winced as he dug through the pocket until he found what he was looking for. He closed his fingers around the ring, hiding it in his fist. He handed the coat back. She took it and whirled away, smelling of lilacs.
He looked down at the ring. The low lights caught the metal, causing it to gleam dully. He could make out the words inside.
He closed his fist again.
The ring was cold in his hand.
He breathed.
He breathed.
He—
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
David flinched slightly, looking up at the toothy smile, then away, then back again. He tried smiling and tried not moving, but he needed to put the ring in his pocket.
The bartender reached over to put a napkin in front of him.
David slipped the ring in his pocket. His elbow bumped his smartphone on the bar top. The bartender saved it before it fell, setting it farther away from the edge, long, thin fingers trailing.
David pulled his hands from his pocket. “Thanks,” he said.
“It’s what I’m here for,” the bartender said with a wink, and maybe David flushed a little at that, because the bartender was handsome. He had olive skin, and the dark hair on his arms was thick. He wore black slacks and a white button-up shirt opened at the throat. A little tuft of hair stuck out from his chest. His teeth were white and even, his eyes beautiful, framed by long, dark lashes.
He was probably also half David’s age.
Not that David was thinking like that. Bartenders flirted with everyone. He might not have even been flirting. David wasn’t recently practiced in such a thing so he couldn’t be sure how it was done now. He didn’t think he really wanted to know. But even David could understand beauty when it was right in front of him, and this man could have anyone he wanted, man or woman. He probably got the most tips out of anyone else that worked here too, if the way his arms strained against his dress shirt gave any indication.
And here was David. David, David, David in his nicest pair of dress slacks that he still owned and maybe had forgotten to iron. A blue V-neck sweater over a white dress shirt. A tie that he wished he’d thought twice about. They didn’t fit like they used to, the clothes looser on him. He was sure his thinning hair was a fright from the short walk in the wind and rain, and fought the urge to reach up and brush it down.
The bartender looked like a model.
David looked like he was in his midfifties.
Which, to be fair, he was. He’d just… well. He’d just never thought about it much before. He hadn’t had time. Maybe he shouldn’t have come early.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.
“What brings you out on this nasty night?” the bartender asked, leaning forward and spreading his hands out on the bar top like he had all the time in the world.
“Um,” David said, clearing his throat, trying to remember what it meant to be a human being. “I’ll have a Maker’s Mark. On the rocks.”
The bartender had little crinkles next to his eyes when he smiled. David noticed those almost right away.
“Maker’s Mark,” the bartender said. “That I can do. I’m Matteo, by the way. In case you need anything.”
“Oh,” David said, fumbling just a little. “Just the bourbon. For now. I’m… David.”
“David,” Matteo said. And then, for reasons David didn’t understand, he reached out his hand.
