Page 89 of His Surrender
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The Davenport Lounge was an upscale establishment in the Ritz-Carlton. The attire was listed asbusiness casual.A jazz band played every night, cocktails and food were served, and you could either sit inside or go outside to the patio. We hadn’t gone to the lounge yet, as we had explored other bars and clubs during our stay, and I thought it was the perfect way to end our vacation—swaying in each other’s arms to live jazz with both of us in our Sunday best.
“Fuck,” Remi said as I walked out of the bedroom that evening. He was sitting on the couch and stood upon seeing me. “You look handsome.”
“So do you,” I responded, checking him out from head to toe. He wore black on black, and the only pop of color was a red bow tie and a red matching belt.
“You kind of remind me of Gatsby,” he said. “Leonardo’s version. Classy and damn sexy.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” I grabbed his hand and kissed the top of it, holding his gaze as I did. His lips parted as he sucked in a breath.
Over the years, there’d been people—men and women alike—who had fallen all over themselves around me. There’d been countless men who’d fallen victim to my charms. But the only one I wanted—the only one I cared about—was the man in front of me right then who stared at me like I was the brightest star in his sky.
“Ready to dance the night away?”
He flashed a bashful smile. “I’m not the best dancer. I know you were buzzed when we danced at the gay bar and might not remember, but I have two left feet.”
“So do I. We can look goofy together.” I grabbed the room key and slipped it into my pocket before holding out a hand to him. As his palm slid against mine and we exited the room, warmth settled over my heart.
Maybe I had a little romance in me after all.
We took the elevator down to the lounge and walked inside. Right away, I saw women in cocktail dresses and men in nice button-ups and others in suits. A man played a trumpet on the stage, and another sat at a baby grand piano.
“Hey, he stole your hat,” I said, nodding to the fedora-wearing pianist.
Remi shrugged. “I wear it better.”
“Now who’s being cocky?” I said with a laugh.
“Learned it from you.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” a woman with bright red lips and dark wavy hair greeted us. “Will you be needing a table?”
I looked at Remi, who nodded. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet. “Yes. That’d be great.”
The woman led us to the formal seating area in the back of the lounge, passing the couches and chairs where other patrons sat enjoying glasses of wine and swaying to the music of Jeremy Davenport.
“Our signature cocktail tonight is the Ramos Gin Fizz,” she said once we were seated. “Or you can check out our vast selection of wine from the menu. Take a look, and your server will be right with you.”
“Thank you.”
The server was an African American man who looked to be in his twenties. He wore a warm smile and told Remi he liked his style. He took our drink orders—a Coke for Remi, and I tried the signature cocktail—then we ordered the artisanal cheese plate for an appetizer.
“I never thought I’d be here,” Remi said, waving his hand at the room. His pale blue eyes settled on me. “Especially not with you. You never seemed like the romantic date night type.”
“Romantic date night?” I furrowed my brow. “That’s it. I’m outta here. Too serious for me.”
Remi chuckled. “You’re a goddamn asshole, Jay Foley.” But unlike when he’d said that to me over the phone, I heard nothing but happiness in his voice.
I reached over and grabbed his hand, smoothing my thumb over his knuckle. “For what it’s worth… I never thought I’d be here either. But now that I am, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Why me?” Remi asked. “You could have anyone. Why go through all this trouble for me? You told me once that you don’t think you have anything to offer me, but that’s howIfeel. I’m not rich and don’t even have incredible looks to make up for it. I can be funny sometimes, but I’m otherwise pretty average. I don’t have anything to offer you, Jay.”
“You’re wrong.” I squeezed his hand before releasing it. “You’ve given me something no one else ever could… a sense of belonging. You make me want to be a better man. I have plenty of money, so I don’t need yours. As for your degree of attractiveness…” I trailed a gaze down his body before lifting it again. “Well, the fact I’m pitching a tent beneath the table should tell you how I feel in that regard.”
He snorted a laugh as his cheeks reddened.
“You believe me, right?”
