Page 15 of Everything We Give

She might be, but I’m not. I tuck a finger under her chin and raise my brows.

“I’m sure,” she says with more conviction, even adds a smile. “Let’s eat. We can talk about my day and the James stuff later. I want to hear everything about your assignment.” She cradles my jaw and plants a firm kiss on my mouth. She then rubs her upper lip as if wiping off the kiss.

I chuckle and Aimee laughs, apologetic. “I guess that’s my cue to shave.” I scratch below my chin. I need to trim. My five-day rugged shadow feels more like a short beard, making my face itch.

I think of what Aimee was about to tell me in the car. What could James possibly want with me? I want to ask her, but I don’t want to invite him to our table. Tonight is for us, a celebration of our achievements.

Wrapping her hand in mine, I lead the way into the restaurant. We don’t eat here often, only on special occasions, like getting THE CALL fromNational Geographicoccasions.

Throughout the three-course meal of breads dipped in raclette cheese, venison seared in seasoned oil, and strawberries dipped in chocolate fudge, I tell her about the assignment.

“Al Foster, he’s the photo editor Erik referred me to. He loved my shots from the Rapa. He says the ones with the horses in the hills are great, but there’s too much happening around them. There’re too many people. He wants me to photograph the horses when they’re not being wrangled, so he’s sending me back to Spain.”

Aimee’s mouth angles downward. “I still haven’t seen your photos from the last trip.”

I roll my fondue fork in the melted cheese. “You’ve been busy,” I say, somewhat glum. And we had to confront other, more pressing issues.

She shreds a piece of bread. “Caty talks about them all the time.”

“I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“I’d like that. Early, though, if you don’t mind. I have a meeting with the bank first thing and I need to prep.” Aimee bites into the bread. “Are you writing the piece, too?”

I shake my head. “Not this time. I’m just captioning photos if they want me to. The magazine’s assigning a writer, but I don’t know who yet. He’ll meet me there so he can hike the hills with me. The editor wants my photos to align with the angle the writer’s taking on the article.” I lean across the table and brush my thumb across Aimee’s chin. “Cheese.”

She wipes her chin where I flicked her skin. “It’s good cheese.” She jabs a fork into another chunk of bread and swirls it in the pot. “I should add a cheese fondue to my menu, maybe for a late-afternoon or early-evening crowd.”

I frown. “Great idea, but do you want to serve food that late? You’ll have to stay open later.” She already spends plenty of hours managing the Los Gatos shop. The two additional storefronts she plans to open will take up more of her time, even without staying open longer hours.

“The Starbucks around the corner added wine and tapas to their menu.”

“You’re better than Starbucks.”

“I know, but ...”

I cover her hand. “Focus on what makes the café different. Let the other coffee shops chase you, not the other way around.”

“You’re right.” She sips her chardonnay. “You’re absolutely right. Sometimes these ideas I get”—she twirls her index finger by her temple—“sidetrack me. I need to stay focused. I’ve got a lot to do to get the new locations opened.” She pushes out a long, steady breath. “So ... Spain?”

I drink my wine and set down the glass. “Come with me.”

Her expression is hesitant. I can see it in the way her gaze flickers over our meal. I try not to feel disappointed.

“When do you leave?” she asks.

“In about a week or two. I have to check the weather reports. It’s the beginning of their rainy season.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Five days, a week, tops.”

She bites into her bottom lip. “I don’t know. That’s such short notice.”

I look at my empty plate.

“Well ... maybe if I ... no ... that won’t work. I—”

I squeeze her hand. “Just think about it.”

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