Page 62 of Lovetown, USA
Her eyes are focused on her surroundings, taking in the lantern lights swaying gently in the breeze and the candles flickering in jars all across the grass. Her eyes dance over thecouples sprawled on blankets surrounded by picnic blankets and bottles of wine. We’re about to be one of those couples, too.
I’m carrying the basket I packed with charcuterie and a bottle of sparkling cider. I also have the chocolate chip cookies I baked for her.
I find a spot near the middle of the field, spreading the blanket and getting her settled onto it before I pull out our snack. The air hums with laughter and soft music from a speaker somewhere at the front.
Feels romantic to me. I hope she feels the same.
“That looks so good,” she says of the spread. “Did you wash the grapes?”
“Yes, your highness,” I tease as I settle next to her on the blanket.
“Sparkling cider.” She shoots me a look. “Is this what we’re doing?”
“If you absolutely have to have alcohol to get through this date with me, there’s a bar in the back.”
She thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m good. I just feel insulted by that, and I don’t know why.”
I put a hand on her knee. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, Lane. I was concerned, that’s all.”
“Whatever. Go get me a martini.”
I nod and move to stand, but she puts her hand on her arm as her face breaks and a smile appears.
“I was kidding.”
“And I was gonna do it. I mean, if that’s what you want.”
“For the record, I don’t need to drink to get through a date with you. Of all the shit I have going on right now, you’re one of a few things thatdoesn’tmake me want a drink.”
I’m both flattered and concerned by that, but now is not the time.
“I don’t think I told you, but they’re showingThe Notebooktonight. I don’t know if you like that one.”
“It’s cool,” she says with a shrug. “But do they ever showourmovies?”
I think about that. “I’ve been to this two times before. And no, at least not when I was here.”
“Not even, like,Love JonesorLove and Basketball?”
I shake my head. “It’s funny. My ex-wife hated both of those.”
Her face scrunches up. “Was she white?”
“No,” I say, laughing. “She just didn’t feel like they were really love stories.”
She thinks about that as I pour the cider into our glasses. “I guess now that you mention it…they weren’t, like, epic love stories where the man crosses oceans or grovels or begs to have her in his life.” She takes a sip. “It would be nice to see that in our movies.”
“You think that’s romantic?”
“I do.” She raises her glass. “Let’s toast.”
“Nah, you already drank some,” I tease. “You ruined it.”
She laughs sheepishly. “Sorry. We’ll toast with the next one.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “So you’ve been here twice, huh? With two different women?”
I smile. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
Something flickers across her face, but I can’t read it.
