Page 76 of Forgotten Romance

Mack sucks in a breath, and it’s a challenge not to kiss him. My fingers brush the side of his hand before he turns it, grabs mine, then lifts it and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “What do you have in mind? Dinner? A movie?”

“I don’t know yet. No movie—I want to do something where we can actually hang out again. Chat. Have fun …”

His eyes have lost that sadness they’ve been clinging to for so long. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“Great.” Then because I can’t stop myself, I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “Come on, kids, let’s get a move on!”

Turning my focus to them stops me fixating on the sweet little smile that I leave on Mack’s face.

The whole time he’s working, I’m googling fun things to do in Kilborough on a date. There’s the usual dinner, walk along the boardwalk, get extreme at Killer Adventures—hey, go, Payne!—and axe throwing at Killer Brew. Scrolling … scrolling … scrolling …

Wait.

On Friday nights, one of the businesses that belong to the Kil Pen ecosystem has a paint and sip night. I look through the booking form and find platter selections, drinks packages, and canvas size choices. From what I can tell, we paint each other while we eat dinner and drink, and then we get to take the “masterpieces” home with us.

Well, fuck. It’ll be nothing if not amusing.

I book a “couple’s night out” and then hope like hell Mack’s into it.

“Do you think this counts as child abuse?” Mack mutters after dropping Kiera and Van off. They were so excited to be spending the night with Uncles Art and Joey and all their “friends.” Who they’ve only met a handful of times, but I wasn’t about to point that out to them.

“No, forcing our children to spend time with Art isn’t child abuse.” I head toward Kil Pen. “Besides, we didn’t force anything. If we didn’t have the child lock on, they would have launched themselves out of the car before I even got us into the driveway.”

He sighs. “I know. I worry.”

“Of course you do. But while Art acts like an idiot most of the time, you know he’s good with kids.”

Mack relaxes. “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“So where are we going?”

“You just need to wait and see.”

“I’m waiting and seeing,” he says, peering out the window.

It doesn’t take us long to get there. Thankfully, with summer and Halloween over, the main tourist season has wound down, and it’s late enough that most of the businesses have closed.

“What’s this?” Mack asks as I pull up.

I jump out of the car and round it to open his door, then take his hand. Mack’s answering smile is almost shy.

“It’s either going to be the best or worst date we’ve ever had.”

“I dunno, you remember the weekend we spent in Boston?”

Mack had ended up with the stomach flu, and we spent the whole trip in our hotel room. “Eh. It was shitty for you, but I at least got to look after you.”

“Pun intended?” he grumbles.

“Come on. Just try to keep an open mind.”

The look he gives me does not fill me with confidence that he’s doing that. So I’ll have to stay upbeat for the both of us.

It’s a small restaurant, lots of cement tabletops, lights on strings, and exposed steel beams on the ceiling. There’s a line of yellow, orange, and green glass bottles along one windowsill and black-and-white framed photos on the far wall.

Candles sit in the middle of all the tables and across the counter, and every table has a small easel on either side.

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