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We sat down back in the room with the bar and dart boards and enjoyed some private time in the corner. Our masks were in our laps, and I’d been comfortably nudged into the crook of Luc’s arm, my head resting on his shoulder.
“The man with the face like a clown was hilarious, wasn’t he?” I said.
“The mime?”
“Yeah, him.” I sighed with contentment. “All the actors have been so good. I feel like we’ve been whisked back to the twenties, and I don’t want to leave.”
“I could bring you again.”
He seemed to hold his breath for a second, and I lifted my head off his chest to look him in the eye. I smiled. “I’d like that.”
His eyes warmed. “Bubbie really liked you,” he now said quietly.
“I really liked her as well,” I admitted.
“She’s my mom’s mom.”
“Your grandmother? Why didn’t you say so?”
“Forgive me, but I wanted to see how you two got along first. Bubbie likes her privacy the older she gets, and the last time I introduced her to a girl she got really attached. I think it broke her heart a bit when she left me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He blinked. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because we’re on a date, and I took you to her restaurant.”
I sat up to look at him properly. “I’m confused. Because we’re on a date, you’d think I’d be mad at you for not introducing the lady who cooked us dinner as your grandmother?”
I watched as he released a big ball of air. “Yeah, I was worried about exactly that.”
“Don’t be silly. We hardly know each other ourselves.”
I went back to snuggling into his side and commenced watching the shenanigans happening at the bar. We were quiet for a bit until Luc whispered into my ear, “What happened that night at the ball?”
I knew he would ask at some point, and I’d thought I wouldn’t tell him or anyone about it. I had also been very angry with him and how he’d treated me the following day. But tonight had been magical, and I felt safe in his arms. Luc provided me with a sense of security I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You said you saw me at the mask museum,” I began quietly.
“Yes.” His arm tightened around my back in silent encouragement to continue.
“I was asked for a dance, and I said yes.”
“I saw that too.”
I paused, digesting that little tidbit. “I ended up dancing quite a bit after that.”
“I saw your other dances too.”
“Oh—”
“And was stupid enough to not ask you for one of those dances,” he said sharply, his tone self-derisive.
“I would have really liked that,” I confessed, squeezing his arm.
He gave me a squeeze in return and planted a soft kiss on my head in reply.
