Page 24 of Melody

“Yeah. Some of her, um, abstract stuff already sold.”

Scarlett’s voice was soft. “Not surprising.”

She must have been feeling like a fish out of water too. Finally, she started to move away and they exited the showcase room through the opposite door—but Kyle paused when he saw a display case holding prints of several of the featured artist’s paintings they’d just observed. Quickly, he scanned through them and found a print slightly bigger than a postcard. Fifteen bucks for a miniature version of the painting Scarlett had fallen in love with.

He could definitely afford that. Even if this wound up being their one-and-only date, she’d at least have something to remember it by.

When they got to the front, the woman who’d first greeted and oriented them rang Kyle up. “I’m glad you found something.”

Kyle wasn’t about to say he couldn’t afford most of what they had on display.

When they got out of the stuffy building into the late autumn evening, Kyle relished the cold air against his cheeks, even though the temperature had noticeably dropped since they’d entered. Scarlett had already had her coat on by the time he’d finished paying for the print, and he handed the flat paper bag to her. “I got this for you.”

“You did? You didn’t have to.”

“I know—but I know you really liked that painting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Scarlett nodded. “Maybe we should have had some of those cheese cubes.”

Kyle raised his eyebrows and then waved an arm to gesture the way across the street. “And lose our appetites for the best Italian in Silver City?” They walked the distance to the curb and then crossed the pavement. The cars parked along the side street and Main confirmed that Amato’s was popular—and busy.

And then it dawned on him: what if Amato’s was one of those places where he should have called ahead to reserve a table? Shit. He’d really fucked up this whole date so far. As they walked in the door, his heart sunk, because there wasn’t an empty table in sight.

That thought alone sent him on an old familiar spiral—but then he heard his therapist’s voice in his head and the words she’d often made him repeat:I am only responsible for my own choices. I can only change today. There are many things I cannot control.

By the time the host greeted them, his head was in a better place and he knew that all was not lost, even if his old self was already ready to accept defeat.

“How many?”

“Two.”

The man nodded, jotted a note on a pad on his table, and then grabbed two menus. “This way, please.”

The smile on Kyle’s face was one of relief, even as he wondered where the hell they would be sitting. Until the man took them down a hallway located at the center of the back wall of the restaurant, Kyle hadn’t realized how big this place was. There were doors to the kitchen on the right with the bathrooms on the left and then they entered a space just as big as the one at the front—but back here there was a bar and a quirkier atmosphere: lower ceilings, no windows, and colored lights lining the walls.

There weren’t many empty tables here either but the host placed them near the back at a small two-top with a small candle, its soft light giving the spot a romantic feel. “Your server will be right with you.”

Kyle barely thought to ask until he started to take off his jacket. “Can I help you with your coat?”

“I wish I hadn’t worn it. It’s so long and bulky.”

He tried to help her get it off but she was already working on it—and they were at the back with the only empty tables left, so they could afford to take their time. Until more people arrived, he was going to use what was available. Pulling a chair from another two-top over to their table, he said, “You can put it here.”

“Good idea.” She draped the coat over the back of the chair and then set her small purse and the paper bag with the print on the seat. “If anyone needs it, I can ask the server if I can hang my coat somewhere.”

Kyle nodded, pulling off his jacket and throwing it on the back of his own chair. As they sat down, he said, “Smells good here.”

“Yeah, it does. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Thanks for coming.”

They had barely sat down when a woman about their age approached the table, placing between them a plate with several slices of Italian bread and a small bowl of oil, spices, and bulbs of garlic. “Hi, guys. My name’s Carly and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?”

Scarlett glanced at Kyle. “I haven’t even had a chance to think about it.”

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