Page 7 of Wrong Number

I reluctantly released her hand as our food arrived, and Tana turned into a mathematical wizard as she divided the portions so that I had sixty percent and she had forty percent of everything on the table.

“I hardly think that’s fair,” I said.

“It’s practical,” she said, waving a fork at me. “You are a lot bigger than I am. You need more calories than I ever will. Plus, your job involves lifting and moving around a lot more than mine.”

Her gaze traveled slowly across the width of my shoulders. “Next time I should really make it sixty-five and thirty-five.”

I snuck one more ravioli onto her plate, as she politely pretended not to notice. “I’m choosing to believe that you want to establish a solid system for shared dinners because you know we’re going to be dating for a very long time,” I said.

Tana blushed slightly, taking a sip of wine to try to hide her face with the glass.

“You like me,” I whispered loudly. “That’s okay. I really like you too.”

Her blush deepened, and she took a bite of pasta so that she didn’t have to speak for a moment.

We chatted about all of the usual things through dinner, from our neighborhood to the changing weather to our families.

Tana was sweetly sympathetic when she heard that my parents were both gone, and seemed relieved that I had my Uncle John so that I still had some family around.

It didn’t sound like she was very close to her parents. I sensed some tension there, as if she may have shut them out, but didn’t quite want to say that because it didn’t seem appropriate for a first date.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

“No, just me. And you?”

“Same. That’s why sharing food with someone is a unique experience,” I said.

“Well, if you’re really planning on getting dessert, you won’t be sharing,” she said, patting her stomach. “There is no more room in here.”

“We’re going to get our dessert in liquid form in a little while,” I said. She looked at me strangely, but I cocked my head . “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she nodded. “Yes.”

“Good, then I’ll get you nice and sugared up at stop number two.”

I took care of the bill while she went to the ladies’ room, then waved again to the owners on the way out. After a quick drive back to our neighborhood, I parked my car in front of a medium-sized, two-storey house.

“Is this your place?” she asked.

“Yes, but we’re not going in.”

She flashed me a quizzical look but didn’t ask any more questions.

Taking her arm, I led her down my quiet residential street to a larger avenue that was bustling with activity. We passed restaurants, bars, and a nightclub, then I directed her into a dark doorway.

Tana looked at the unmarked building, then up to me. “You realize this is sketchy as all heck?”

“You said you trusted me.” Slipping an arm around her, I kissed the top of her hair gently. “I promise, it’s perfectly safe. You’re going to love it.”

Taking her hand, we walked down the slightly rickety stairs to a dark hallway in the basement. We could hear music and laughter, and as we turned a corner, Tana’s eyes lit up.

“It’s magical,” she breathed. “What on earth is it?”

“My buddy Stanley is an artist,” I explained. “He has a huge art opening downtown in a couple of weeks, and this is his pre-party to get people’s opinions. Plus, his girlfriend Sylvia is a cocktail expert, so she always bartends his events, testing new drinks since we always give brutally honest feedback.”

I loved the way her eyes shone up at mine. I loved the way she squeezed my hand when she was excited.

In a flash, I realized that she was the first girl I’ve ever wanted to introduce to my friends. The first woman I’d ever been truly proud to have on my arm. Yet I’d known her slightly less than twenty-four hours.

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