The restaurant Jack chose isn’t too far, just downtown and opposite the beach. The first thought I have when I pull up is how beautiful the sunset is going to be. I hope we get a good enough seat to be able to watch it. I’ve never seen a good sunset before, and it’ll be a nice experience to have, and the perfect night to have it, considering tonight is filled with lots of firsts.
I park in a large lot only a block from the restaurant that is already bustling with people. Pulling out my phone, I text Jack to let him know I’ve just arrived. He texts me back almost immediately to say he’ll meet me out front.
I give myself a little pep talk as I gather my stuff, assuring myself that being open and honest is the best way to be, and it won’t be a disaster. And if Jack thinks I’m a complete fool, well, it’s no harm, no foul. I barely know the guy, and even if he is super attractive and funny and smart, there are many other guys who have those same qualities. I groan at myself, realizing how awful that is to say. Those aren’t the only things I like about Jack. There’s more, a connection.
He’s glancing down at his phone when I spot him, his brown shaggy hair rustling in the wind. He looks up at me and our eyes connect almost immediately as if he knew exactly where I would be. The smile that crosses his face has my stomach knotting, and I return one of my own that I hope shows excitement and not terror.
“Hey,” he greets me as I reach him.
“Been waiting long?” I ask. He puts his phone in his pocket and shakes his head.
“Not at all.”
He’s wearing a loose, button-up white shirt with tiny little crabs on it, light jeans that fit him so well, and a pair of white, slip-on Vans. If I didn’t know a thing about him, I’d guess he were from this area by style alone.
“Should we go inside? You did say you were hungry, didn’t you?” He grins, running a tanned hand through his hair.
“I did,” I agree, gesturing towards the open front doors. He starts and I move after him. We’re greeted by the host, who is a young man probably not much older than Zach, the moment we step inside.
“Welcome to Calvin’s. Do you have a reservation?”
“I do,” Jack says, stepping towards the podium. “It should be under Bernadotte.”
Why I’m shocked by that, I have no idea. He told me Melinda was his grandmother, but something about him saying it throws me off guard.
“Of course.” The host runs his pen down a sheet of paper before marking something off, then looks around and gestures for one of the waitresses to come over with a crook of his finger. He gathers two menus as a tall, thin woman with wavy, blonde hair walks over to us, then he hands them to her. “Grace, please take the Bernadotte party to table thirty-two.”
“Right this way,” she says with a smile, holding the menus in front of her.
“Enjoy your meals,” the host says as we pass, and I nod my head in thanks.
Grace leads us upstairs, and when I see where we’re going, I can’t help but smile even wider.
She leads us out onto the deck and places the menus down at a small table that’s against the railing. We have the perfect view of the ocean and the sunset, if we’re still here for it.
“Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”
“Any suggestions?” I ask as I settle into my seat.
“The Pirate Ship is currently our most popular drink,” Grace responds.
“Oh, I haven’t tried that one yet. What’s in it?” Jack asks, looking up at her.
“Coconut rum, house whiskey, pineapple juice, blue curaçao, and a splash of orange juice.”
“Sounds sweet,” I add.
She laughs. “Oh, it is. Exactly why it’s popular. You can barely taste the alcohol.”
“Do you have anything where you can taste the alcohol?” Jack asks, crossing his hands and resting them on the table. “I’m not much of a fruity drink kinda guy.” I look at him with fondness, adding yet another thing we have in common to my list.
“We have a full bar and can make anything you’d like. As for our own drinks, we just added The Sailor to our menu. It’s our own take on the Old-Fashioned and popular with the non-fruity crowd.”
“I’ll take of those,” Jack says happily.
“I’ll have the same. Water as well.”
“Oh, me too,” Jack adds.
Grace nods and leaves, and I pick up the menu to figure out what I want to eat.
“Do they really have fresh seafood here?” I ask, scanning over the menu.
Jack glances towards the ocean. “Uh, yeah.” He laughs. “Where are you from anyway? No, wait! Let me guess.”
“Okay.” I put my menu down and look at him as he taps his finger on his chin, looking me over with his elbows resting on the table. His blue eyes glance over my face, then down my chest and over my arms and back up. I’m not sure how looking at me like this will give him the answer he’s looking for, and I suddenly lose every ounce of confidence I was grasping onto.
“Indiana,” he says with a proud smile.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Hmm…” He narrows his eyes slightly. “Am I close?”
“Not really, no.” I hide my smile behind my hands that are folded together in front of my face, elbows resting on the table.
“Colorado?”
I shake my head again, and this time I have to try to stifle the laugh at the disappointment on his face. “Should I just tell you?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “Unless you want to sit here for the rest of the night with my stubborn ass going through every state and country, yes.”
The laugh escapes my throat now and I do nothing to hide it. “I appreciate your determination. Nebraska. Enway, to be more exact. It’s a small town about an hour from Montana.”
“You know, I think Nebraska would’ve been my last guess. I always forget about it.”
“It’s certainly like its own world up there. Part of the reason why I left, actually.”
The waiter returns with our drinks, a bright smile on her face. “Are you ready to order yet?”
“Could we have a few more minutes?” I ask, realizing I barely looked at anything and didn’t even come close to deciding.
“Of course. I’ll be back shortly.”
“So what’s good? I don’t even know if I like seafood,” I admit.
An adoring smile crosses over Jack’s face, fondness shining in his eyes. He looks at me as if I’m someone he’s been looking for for years. “I’d suggest the surf and turf then. You do like steak, right? At least then you’ll still have that to eat if you don’t like the seafood. They have a few different choices, but there’s one that comes with shrimp, scallops, and lobster.”
I close the menu and place it on the table. “I’ll do that then.”
When the waitress comes back, we place our order and get another round of drinks. I’m already feeling good by the time the food comes out. Nice and relaxed, so during my meal, which I am thoroughly enjoying, except the scallops, I’m not sure how I feel about those, I order a third drink and decide that if I get too drunk, I’ll Uber home.
“Can you excuse me for a minute?” I ask Jack before I take a sip from my third drink. “I just need to check on my kids.”
“Oh, of course.” I get to my feet and pull out my phone as I walk to the area where the bathrooms are, which also has a small area that overlooks the beach without any tables so I won’t disturb anyone’s dinner.
“Hi, Dad,” Zach answers, sounding annoyed I’ve even called.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine.”
“How’s Delilah?”
“Fine.”
I hold back my sigh. “Prove it.”
“Hey, brat!”
“Don’t call me that, Zach!”
I chuckle. “Thanks, Zach. What are you guys up to?”
It’s silent for a long moment so I check my phone screen. The call is still going so I put it back to my ear.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” he asks, sounding thoroughly frustrated.
“Yeah, but you’re still my kids and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m almost an adult, I think I can handle taking care of my sister.”
“What’s the attitude for?” I ask.
He let’s out a deep breath. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry. Just have fun. We’re fine.”
My gut twists and I worry something is wrong with him, something he isn’t telling me. That all of this is too much for him and I shouldn’t be here.
“I can come home. I don’t ha—”
“It has nothing to do with you, Dad. I’ll see you later. Delilah is fine.”
I clench my jaw and look out at the beach. “Okay, Zach. I’ll see you later.”
He ends the call and I take a deep breath before turning and heading back to the table, worry filling my chest that I shouldn’t be doing this at all.
It’s too soon, it’s too much for him.
I hate that I can’t decide if that’s the truth, or if I’m finding an excuse not to do this…