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“Your French 75, and for the gentleman, our famous Old Fashioned. Any apps tonight?” The waiter might’ve been a college student, but I hadn’t seen him before. His baby face was clean shaven, his round blue eyes paying far more attention to me than to Abby. He was happier than before when he took our drink order.
“What do you think about the Carpaccio and the Caprese?” Abby asked.
The waiter looked to me.
“Whatever she wants,” I said.
The waiter leaned in. “Apps are on me, tonight. Mrs. Hayes is in the back, angrier than I’ve ever seen her, and it’s glorious. Thanks for that,” he said, standing upright. “Wonderful choices. I’ll get those right in for you.”
Abby seemed confused. “Did he say what I think he said?”
“He sure the fuck did,” I said, beaming.
She shushed me, giggling at the same time.
I had never felt on the right side of anything, played the bad guy to a fucking T. But, even after being responsible for hundreds of lost lives and punching our small town’s golden boy, people saw me differently when I was with my wife. I somehow found myself being seen as a hero, the way Abby saw me. I gazed across the table into her eyes.
“You’re looking at me like you just fell in love with me all over again,” she said.
“I did.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing tonight, but I clearly need to do more of it.”
“I just … I like this,” I said, gesturing to the space between us. “You and me, out, dressed up, just enjoying each other’s company. Like we’re …”
“Adults?” she asked with a knowing grin.
“Yeah. Crazy, isn’t it? I was in high school two years ago and now I’m your husband. It’s like I slipped into my own dream life. Except I’m living it. Do you feel like that? Is it just me?”
She slid her left hand across the table and intertwined her fingers between mine. “It’s not just you.”
I rubbed her wedding band with my thumb. “Best thing I ever did.”
“Me, too,” she said. I stared at her ring, and she must’ve seen something in my expression because she squeezed my fingers. “What else is going on in that head of yours?”
I tried to relax my brows. I hadn’t realized I was frowning. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to ruin our night by having this conversation again.”
“Baby, look at me,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll reassure you as many times as you need. I miss you when you’re gone, and when you come home from work, I still get butterflies in my stomach. Not a day goes by that I’m not ridiculously happy that I’m your wife.”
I squeezed her hand back. “I fucking love you.”
“So,” the waiter said, stepping up to our table. “Unfortunately, we’re out of the Caprese, but we do have an amazing Bruschetta that I know you’ll love.” He leaned in and whispered his next words, “Also, don’t look but there are two men back there who look like they haven’t been laid in years eyeballing your table since they were seated.”
“Oh?” Abby said. “Weird.”
He kept his voice low. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but they only ordered waters.” His eyebrows bounced up once. “At Biasetti’s? Sketch as hell. And we’re not really out of Caprese. I just wanted to give you a head’s up.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Go ahead and send the Bruschetta instead to make it look legit.”
“Done,” the waiter said, winking before walking away.
“We’re going to keep talking normally for a minute, and then I’m going to take a look,” Abby said.
She didn’t wait a full minute. She nonchalantly raked her fingers through her hair, and barely adjusted enough to see behind me.
If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have realized that’s what she was trying to do.
“Pretty slick, slick,” I said.
