Page 47 of It's a Date (Again)

Nash closes the door and scrambles to the other side at a hurried yet casual pace. It’s like he’s trying not to appear anxious, and I find it cute that he’s just as nervous as I am. He hops into the driver’s seat, and we click our seat belts into place. The car revs to life.

“What’s the plan?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says, tossing a smile at me. Nash puts the car in drive and pulls out onto the street.

“You said this carwasyour dad’s.” I give him a sympathetic look. I know what it’s like to lose a parent—well, I don’t remember. But I can feel it.

He nods. I want to ask him more, but I don’t know what to say. There’s never a right thing to say when it comes to grief and loss. I fiddle with my fingernails, busying myself.

“He passed a few years ago.” Nash swallows hard, keeping his attention on the road.

“I’m sorry. I lost both my parents when I was eighteen.” I take a small, deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to stop myself from crying. It’s strange—ever since Robbie told me they passed, I’ve wanted to cry but I’ve also not let myself. It almost feels like a defense mechanism, my body telling my mind,You’ve grieved. You don’t need to do it again.

“I’m really sorry for your loss too,” Nash says, briefly looking over at me.

I nod slightly. There’s silence for a few moments as he drives through Wicker Park. I recognize Division Street, the one I found myself on when I stumbled into that coffee shop. It’s bustling with people enjoying the sunny fall afternoon.

“Want to listen to some music?” he asks.

I tell him yes because I think we need to change the subject. Not exactly a great start for a first date ... er, first date for me. He turns up the volume and death metal music plays. I instantly don’t like it but I smile politely.

“Do you like it?”

“Sure,” I say with a laugh.

He bobs his head and lip-synchs as he drives. It’s definitely an acquired taste. I wonder if Robbie would think this was worse than Tyler liking Nickelback.

Around fifteen minutes and at least three scream-o songs later, the car stops in front of a restaurant called Gretel. It’s a decent-size brick building painted white with oversized oak wooden doors. I remember him mentioning it at the hospital. It’s where he works and where we had our first date (according to my planner).

“Here we are.” Nash shuts the car off, and we exit the vehicle.

“Is it open?” I ask, peering at the unlit windows.

“Nope. It’s just me and you.”

He fiddles with his set of keys and unlocks the front door. Inside, Nash switches on the lights, illuminating the bar-restaurant. It has a rustic feel with dark finishings and warm lighting. Behind the bar and against the wall are floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with liquor bottles. A black iron ladder is attached to a sliding bar. It’s looks like it belongs in a bookstore ... the shelves and ladder, not the alcohol. The restaurant is a mix of booths and high-top tables, and even though it’s empty, it feels full.

“This is amazing,” I say, taking it all in.

“Thanks. I don’t have anything to do with the design, just the cooking.”

“I’m sure that’s incredible too.”

“Do you want to find out?” He glances at me. “I was thinking you and I could make lunch together and eat it here.”

“Sounds good to me. What are we making?”

He raises a brow. “How about our famous Gretel griddle burgers and fries?”

“I’m in.”

Nash leads me through the swinging door off the bar. It opens up to a large commercial kitchen. The lights flicker a couple of times before fully turning on. It’s pristine and sterile with every metal surface shining. He clearly takes great pride in his work. Nash walks to a metal tub and turns a valve. He waits a few seconds and then lights the pilot.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A restaurant fryer. Gotta turn it on so it has time for the oil to heat up.” He pulls a bin from a top shelf and rummages through it. “Now you gotta look the part.”

I watch him, waiting to see what he has up his sleeve. He turns toward me, holding two dark-blue aprons with brown leather straps. Nash puts his head through the strap and quickly ties it behind his back.

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