Page 43 of 5+Us Makes Seven

Why was I so nervous to talk with him about this?

“Well hello there, pretty lady. You going my way?” Carter asked.

“You’re insane,” I said with a giggle.

“Get in. Our reservations are in fifteen minutes,” he said.

“So what’s this big announcement you have?” I asked. “Because I have one, too.”

“Ah, so we both have big news. This will make for a fun celebratory dinner.”

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

“I guess we’ll both have to see.”

I smiled and looked out the window as the world passed by. Things were going well so far and Carter seemed to be in high spirits. He was in one of his very expensive suits, cut perfectly to his body and paired with a button-down shirt that had the top button undone. It was the perfect mixture of formal and relaxed, which made me feel a little more dressed up than I needed to be.

I had chosen my form-fitting black dress, a matching pair of heels, and the only thing I owned that had been nothing but a splurge item.

My pearls.

“You look wonderful tonight,” Carter said.

“I feel overdressed sitting next to you,” I said.

“Nonsense. You look fabulous. Ready to go in?” he asked.

“My stomach says ‘yes’. I’m starving.”

“See? We already have one ‘yes’ to toast.”

We walked into the restaurant and it was everything I expected it to be. Dimly lit with full-length tablecloths and candles on top. It was the epitome of a romantic evening which didn’t lend a tone of professionalism. But I let it slide.

Carter’s hand on my lower back felt too good to call him out on it.

He pulled out my chair for me and I grinned. I felt the ‘strictly professional’ vibe of our entire meal quickly fading into the background. A bottle of decanted red wine was sat on the table, like it had already been ordered for us, and instead of menus we were simply given choices.

“Soup or salad?”

“Duck or quail?”

“Water or coffee?”

“Salty or sweet?”

“Spicy or herbaceous?”

It went on like that for a few questions before the waiter walked back into the kitchen. I gave Carter a quizzical look as a chuckle fell from his lips.

“What kind of place did you bring me to?” I asked. “Did I just order a sweetened spicy quail?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “But it is one of those restaurants that book out years in advance,” he said.

“Then how did you get a reservation?” I asked.

“I may have called and talked to the chef.”

“You know the chef?”

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