Page 58 of Fresh Start
There was no point worrying about things that were out of my control, was there? I tried to push all these thoughts to the back of my head. What I needed to do now was enjoy the rest of my time at home, and maybe before we both took our separate ways at the end of the week, we’d decide what was next in line for us.
At eight o'clock on the dot, I was standing at reception feeling and looking very confident. I’d chosen a red shirt and a pair of black, tight-fitting jeans, feeling underdressed.
Mel was standing at reception with a big smile, tapping her fingers on the desk.
"Are you nervous?" she asked me.
I turned around and lied. "No, not really.”
It was only dinner with Dawson. Why was it so scary? Why did it make my legs feel like jelly?
"This is so exciting," Mel said and rubbed her hands together.
"What's the time?" I asked.
Mel looked at her watch and informed me it was five past eight.
Had Dawson changed his mind? Was he not interested in dinner anymore? Or had he simply lost track of time?
A girl, the housekeeper that had pushed Dawson in my arms by accident, ran through the door, panting and apologizing profusely.
“Finally. Now we can begin,” Mel said and came out from the reception desk, and the girl took her place.
“Begin what?” I asked, but Mel didn’t answer. She took me by the hand and led me down one of the two main doors, the one that led down the seafront.
A path leading to the beach was covered in rose petals and candles on each side. I turned to Melody with a confused look, and she smirked.
“Dawson wanted to do something nice for you. But since he is so private with matters of the heart, his options were limited. I decided to give him a little hand."
We walked past a row of palm trees, and she took me toward a symphony of candles of all shapes, colors, and sizes illuminating around a square table, clothed in white, in the middle of the beach. On the table lay a single red rose. Cutlery for a three-course meal and small sharing plates were placed on either side.
Dawson was standing next to the table, looking dashing as always in a pair of blue jeans and a loose, white shirt. He flashed me his million-dollar smile and extended his hand so I could take it.
Dawson thanked Melody for bringing me down, and with a gentle nod, she stepped aside. He helped me to one of the chairs and then took the empty one opposite me.
“What is all this?" I asked.
Of all the things I’d imagined, I’d never thought this was going to be our dinner tonight.
I’d always wanted to be romanced and have someone sweep me off my feet and practice the art of flirting on me. But I’d never had a date or a boyfriend who were into any of this. So I’d managed to convince myself that I didn't care for it. I’d accepted the fact that I was almost forty and that romance was nonsense for younger people.
Now that I was in the middle of the most romantic setting ever, I realized I was still a hopeless romantic.
"I wanted something special," Dawson said.
I smiled, and Dawson reached out for my hand.
"You look so handsome," he said.
"You don't look so bad yourself." I grinned.
"Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?" Dawson asked, and Mel stepped forward with a small table jammed with drinks that she set on the sand next to us.
“What would the gentlemen like?” Melody said in a gentle, sensual voice, and it made me want to stick my tongue out.
Bitch. She’d been in on all of this, and she hadn’t said a word. How was I going to get back at her?
"Would you like to try my new cocktail? It's completely virgin, unlike any one of us." She chuckled.
