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“Can I get y’all some dessert or coffee?” The server picked up their dirty plates.
“We’re going to get some dessert for the birthday boy,” Elizabeth interjected, just in case John tried to say it was her birthday.
“Happy birthday. We do a complimentary mini-serving of the brownie a la mode.”
“I don’t really do mini, and we’re going to share. Bring us the full size, and just put it on the bill.”
The server chuckled, her gaze roving over John. “Do you still want a candle and us to sing?”
“Sure. I was deployed on my real birthday, and it wasn’t real fun.”
“I’ll put in the order.” The waitress carried off the dishes.
“Sorry you were deployed on your birthday. And holidays,” Elizabeth added.
“Being with my team beats being alone. Once I have a family, it’ll be harder to be away, though. That’s a big reason I’m looking forward to the new position. I won’t have to deploy every eighteen months.”
“Have you ever been married?” she asked cautiously.
“No. I didn’t get serious with anyone in high school. There was one woman when I was first enlisted. That didn’t work out. I decided I wanted to get my college degree before I got married, probably due to my parents. Working and taking online courses to get prerequisites out of the way didn’t give me a lot of time to put into a relationship. I was deployed half that time too.”
His answer surprised her. In her experience, many military members married young, and from what he had told her about enlisting right out of high school, serving four years, then college, he had to be in his early thirties.
“What about you?”
She should have figured he’d ask. “For a little over two years. I was in my early twenties.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out.”
That was an understatement. “How many times have you been deployed?” She shifted the conversation to a safer topic—at least for her—and managed to keep the conversation off her past until three servers approached.
The server in front handed John a ridiculously oversized, embellished black sombrero that he plopped on his head before another set the dessert on the table and lit the candle.
“Get a picture.” John slid her his phone.
She took his photo while one server banged a tambourine near her ear. Another shook maracas as they sang their version of “Happy Birthday.”
“I’ll take a picture of the two of you,” the server offered.
“That’s okay.”
“Come over here.” John motioned with his hand and made room for her on the bench seat.
“Really?”
He smiled and waited for her to slide in next to him, then leaned his head close to hers for the picture before blowing out the candle. He handed back the sombrero and took his phone from the server.
Elizabeth returned to her side of the booth. “Happy belated birthday.”
“Thanks for helping me celebrate.” He handed her one of the spoons, then dug in, his focus locked on J.R. and Ariana.
“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked rather than turn to look.
“J.R. asked for their check. I want to see if he pays for both of them since he invited Ariana out. I might be willing to cut him some slack if, in addition to apologizing to her, he was man enough to come over here and apologize to you for showing up high or drunk at your place.”
John ate another big spoonful of brownie and ice cream, then mouthed something and pointed to the back. Less than a minute later, Ariana wove through the tables. John had his phone out, tapping on the screen before she disappeared into the hallway to the bathrooms.
“I told her to take her time.” He pulled out his money clip and flagged down their server.
