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The maître d’ led us to the table. I’d showered and changed into one of the few good shirts I’d bought and a pair of khakis. Abbie had put on a sundress she’d bought during the walk around that afternoon. She’d let her hair go wavy and had pulled back from the sides of her face. I noticed she’d done her make-up a little more intently than she usually had while we’d been there. Maybe she was feeling a little better.
I waved her ahead of me as we walked to the table.
I looked around the space. Linen tablecloths. A band setting up across the room on a small stage. There were gorgeous views out the one floor to ceiling windows. This could be just the thing to relax us both and recalibrate things. I’d text Dominique in the morning and suggest a small change of plans—maybe her brother could take us out for the day or something. And if not, then I’d find a way to end things early. There were other tour guides, probably not private tours—they’d have been up weeks ago—but we could tag along on one or two. Something to occupy our days so we weren’t on the beach every day we were there…not that there was anything wrong with sitting next to a bikini-clad Abbie on a stretch of sand with a cold drink in my hand.
We sat at the table and the waiter brought over a bottle of wine. I scanned the menu, glancing at Abbie across the table. She sipped her wine and set her phone down beside her on the table.
“What looks good?” she asked.
“Other than the woman across from me?”
She laughed with a soft shake of her head, and I could see the hint of a blush under her newfound tan.
“Save your lines, Lucas.”
But I caught the sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m just excited to see something that isn’t pizza.”
“Hey, pizza is a staple.”
“And one of our main food groups, but tonight…I want something a little more substantial.”
“So no salad…” she said, flipping the page.
I turned the page.
“No salad…” I agreed, scanning the list. They seemed to have a bit of everything—some pasta dishes…some meat…chicken…and the back page was dedicated to the local cuisine. I went back a few pages. Steak sounded good to me.
Abbie was studying the menu intently.
The waiter arrived a few moments later. “Good evening, what can I get for you tonight?”
“Abbie?”
“I’ll start with the green salad…” She glanced at me with a grin. “Two of them, actually…”
“Go ahead…” I grinned at her. Happy to see her a little more herself. A little more the Abbie I loved.
“And then…” She pressed her lips together, biting her bottom lip like she always did when she was deep in thought. “Steak, I guess. Medium well. Fries. Extra fries.” She looked at me. “Lucas?”
“Make it two of them.” I handed him my menu, and she did the same.
The band in the corner started up, a cover band. They were actually better than I’d hoped for. They were working through a Christmas-themed playlist, it seemed. Abbie sat there across from me, her gaze on her phone every once in a while. I was hoping she’d open up a little bit, so we could go back to enjoying ourselves like we had the first few days on the island.
She finished her first glass of wine and reached for her iced water as the waiter arrived with our salads.
I looked at the plate in front of me, green, green and more green. Not even a single sliver of carrot to be found. I picked up my fork and started eating. “Are we going to eat in silence all night?”
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, digging into her salad with surprising gusto.
“Anything.”
“You need to narrow it down.”
“How are your pictures?”
