Page 77 of Forgotten

This wasn’t where I was going to pop the question. Not yet. But it would lay the groundwork. I wanted her to feel special, and now that I was finally feeling like I was my old self again, or rather, my new self, I wanted to show her what life would be like going forward.

I was still me. I was still going to pursue music and be a little wild and party. But my days of having women hanging on me, going days without sleeping properly or eating or in general taking care of myself were over. Now I was going to perform, just like I always had, and then, much like Kevin, I was going to go find my woman and spend the night working out all that amped-up energy showing her how special she was to me.

I couldn’t wait for the first show I got to do with her as my girlfriend. It was going to be one hell of a night. Maybe tonight might come close.

A knock on the door got my attention just as I finished putting away the long-lighter and I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror. I’d shaved for once. That alone should be a shock. I almost always had a day-old stubble at least.

“Hey—oh my God,” she said, all as one word, when I opened the door. “What is going on here?”

“You,” I said. “Any time I get a chance to have a private dinner with you, it’s special.”

“Private?” she asked, her eyes widening, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Just you and me,” I said.

“Well then,” she said, coming across the threshold and taking off her purse. “I feel wildly underdressed.”

I looked her up and down appreciatively. She was wearing a pretty blue dress I’d never seen her in before and matching flats, her long hair brushed out and hanging on both sides of her face, framing her in a dark forest of gorgeousness.

“Not at all,” I said. “Though maybe later, we can both be wildly underdressed together.”

She laughed, playfully slapping my chest as she fell into my arms for a kiss.

“You’re bad,” she said.

“I thought that was why you liked me.”

“It is,” she said. “One of the reasons, anyway.”

“And the others?”

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked over my shoulder, her nostrils flaring and confusion crossing her face.

“I thought you said we were alone,” she said.

“We are.”

“Did… did Collin cook and then leave?”

“Not Collin,” I said.

“You didn’t make whatever that smell is,” she said. “I would know if you could cook like that. I would, wouldn’t I?”

I laughed and guided her toward the kitchen.

“You would,” I said. “Unfortunately, my cooking skills are still fairly rudimentary, no matter how hard Collin tries. But this wasn’t him either. I brought in Chef Rousey to make us a meal.”

“Randy?” she said. “You got him all the way down here to cook dinner?”

“I did,” I said. “He was happy to do it. You’re one of his favorite people.”

“Wow,” she said. “You really went all out tonight.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “Come on. Sit down. I’ll get you some wine.”

I held the chair out for her, and she sat down. Pouring a glass of wine, I waited on her to tell me when to stop. When the glass was almost full, I realized she had no idea she was supposed to, and I had just poured a wildly suggestive half-bottle in her glass.

She didn’t complain though.

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