Page 11 of Red Zone Realizations
“Love you. And call me later. I want to hear everything.” She turns to collect her already packed things and leaves.
I check the time on my phone: 6:20. I’m trying to be relaxed, but my jiggling knee is giving me away. I’m strung up like a high wire.
This is just an apology dinner. No expectations. No strings.
Noah might be a delicious mountain of a man, but that doesn’t mean anything to me.
I do what I always do to keep myself focused and on track: write a list.
I open a new note on my phone which I title “Reasons I Don’t Need a Man:”
1. They lie.
2. I’m too busy.
3. They all want to be dads. (And will lie about it. See reason one.)
I check the time again and see if I have a text. The time is inching toward 6:30 at a snail's pace. Adrunksnail's pace. He’s not even going in a straight line, poor snail.
Finally, finally, it’s time to leave. I grab my small purse and keys and head out the door. My Uber waits for me in the cracked concrete driveway, and I’m met with the delicious smell of fried chicken being blown my way from the restaurant across the street.
I arrive five minutes early, which is right on time, and allow the valet to open my door.
“Audrey,” a voice calls from behind me and I turn toward it.
My jaw drops when I take Noah in.
He looks so different in casual clothes. Until now I’ve only ever seen him in gym clothes—those devastating man tights he wears. I thought those would be the death of me, but Noah in a hunter green Henley just about wipes my brain of all intelligent thought. If I die right now, it’s because he looks so good I forgot to breathe. He takes long strides toward me, eating up the concrete between us. I momentarily panic. Are we on hugging terms? What if he kisses the back of my hand? Is that gross or romantic? It would definitely give me a sense of what this night is. If he shakes my hand I may die from embarrassment on the spot.
I’m more than a little relieved when he pulls me into a hug that’s surprisingly gentle for his size.
He holds his hand out for mine. “Are you hungry?”
A smirk splits my face. “Starving, actually.”
The list. The list. The list.
Don’t be so easily charmed, Audrey.
“This is my favorite restaurant.” He guides me through the dark glass front doors hand in hand.
Inside is full of murmuring undertones. Even at seven-thirty, they have the lights turned down, enhancing the beautiful candlelight coming from each table. The smells of fresh-baked bread and searing steak mingling. “It’s beautiful.”
Noah speaks to the maître d’. “Fox, for two at seven-thirty.”
They look down at their tablet before saying, “Ah yes. Mr. Noah, your regular table is ready.” They walk around the hostess stand and we follow.
His regular table? How many women has he brought here?
I slip into the chair Noah pulls out for me. The table has two small votive candles, and a single white rose in a demure vase. The white tablecloth is perfectly ironed, and a small basket of warm bread is already waiting for us. I pull my napkin into my lap and pick up the menu. It’s got a bit of everything on it. A chicken breast, of course, but steak and various seafood offerings as well. Movement catches my eye, and I glance up as our waiter approaches.
“Good evening, Mr. Noah. So glad to have you tonight.”
Noah smiles and greets him. “Matt, so good to see you! Been a couple weeks.” Matt is average height with sandy hair and blue eyes. I’ve never seen anyone greet a server like this. He really must come here all the time. Or maybe he’s thisfriendly with everyone? That would explain his insistence in taking me out to dinner.
“It has. We’ve updated the wine list since you were here last. I’ll bring Jacque over to discuss that with you shortly.” With a nod, he moves to the next table. I turn toward Noah, my mind whirring with the new light I’m seeing him in tonight. I know so little about him, but I plan on changing that right now.
To satisfy my curiosity, of course. No other reason.
