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By the timeOrlie has set my plate full of the most delicious-looking, vibrant food I’ve ever seen in front of me, I can’t help but feel that this dinner is a little bit like a date. Maybe date adjacent.
As he pours a full-bodied red wine into my glass, giving me a soft smile as he does so, I think date adjacent might just be heaven.
“Thank you,” I say. “This looks divine.”
Orlie settles into the seat across from me and removes his apron with a sigh of triumph. “You’re very welcome. Please, eat.”
My eyes have devoured the whole plate three times over already, so by the time I actually lift my fork to dig in, I don’t know where to start.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Orlie grabs for his wine first, pausing before he takes a sip. “My grandmother. When Dad was working too much, I’d spend sometimes weeks, months on end with her. And if you think this is any good, her food is ten times better.”
“She still cooks?”
“If you go over just to say hello, she’ll make you have a five-course meal. She’s trained in the French style.”
“You were a lucky kid, then.”
Orlie snorts. “Tell that to the six-year-old me who was forced to eatescargot.”
I laugh and then go back to my plate, still unsure where to stab my fork first.
“Um, sorry, we should cheers first, huh?”
I drop my fork with a clatter. “I – oh – yes.” I grab my wine so harshly it nearly flies out of the glass. “Sorry, I’m excited.”
“That’s not something to be sorry for.”
I lift my glass to meet Orlie’s. “What are we cheersing to?”
Orlie smirks. “Not killing each other by the end of this?”
“Not walking in on each other naked again?” I follow up.
“Both formidable things to cheers to. Perfect. To all of that, then.”
We clink our glasses together, solidifying our agreement. No killing, no nudity. Sounds like a PG movie.
I take a sip of the wine. Warm and luscious on my tongue, curling down my throat and into my belly. I feel warm all over with just one sip. Heaven.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Mm, yes. Where’d you get it?” I reach for the bottle on the table and spin it toward me. The label reads Wynters Winery. I narrow my eyes at him. “Your family owns a winery?”
Orlie shrugs as if all families have wineries. “My grandmother’s venture.”
“This grandmother of yours sounds like quite the lady.”
“She is.” Orlie cuts into his chicken piccata and takes a bite. His eyes flutter shut. “Mmm…”
I can imagine his eyes fluttering shut for other reasons than that.
Kira, get it together.
I follow suit and take a bite. And then another. And then another. Everything tastesdivinefrom the tangy goat cheese to the spicy capers. Even the broccoli rabe is delectable. “This is amazing.”
“Don’t worry if you finish something. There’s more.”
