I’ve never admitted it out loud, except once to my cousin, Avery. But nothing about that wedding was my dream. I picked the dress that friends persuaded me to wear instead of the one I really wanted, had a guest list way too long and partly influenced by my parents. Not to mention, I would have wanted the whole event to be simpler.
“I thought it was a special day. But looking back, it wouldn’t have mattered what the wedding was like. It’s the marriage that counts, and it wasn’t what I envisioned,” he admits.
There’s a pause, and in that moment, I remember a peculiar fact in this situation.
A chortle escapes me. “You know you invited me to your wedding? My parents went to your wedding, and your mother must have sent me an invite or something.”
This makes him laugh. “I’ll be damned. True. My mother went a little overboard with the invite list. And actually… I also received an invite to your wedding.”
I pause to think about it. “Oh yeah, my mother also went overboard with the invites. Well, kind of good that neither one of us went to the other’s wedding.”
“Why? Because now we’re on a date?” He has a humorous look.
“Exactly.” I return the look, before taking a big sigh. “Anyhow. I am kind of done talking about our divorces. Tell me something else. Do you still run?”
“Good decision, let’s move on and enjoy tonight. Yeah, I still run. Funny you remember.” His gaze is almost intense, and his smile entertained.
“Well. You used to run to our house to help my parents with the garden when my brother was away at college. For some reason, you felt getting in your cross-country practice to and from was the way to go.”
“True. You? I have to say, I remember you a little different. You seem calmer now.”
I hold a hand up. “You mean not rebelling against my parents, society, and the world? Yeah, I moved out of that phase as I matured,” I reflect.
After catching up on my recent trip and how he designed his new house, we move into discussion over our careers as we feast on a dish of beef and a mix of vegetables. The plate is painted with various coulis and sauces for the meat. I’m afraid to ruin the perfect image of the plate.
He asks about the hardest part of my job.
“Well, putting a pet to sleep is the worst. You would think it’s harder when kids are involved, but they’re resilient. It’s older people or military vets who have a dog to help them that is the hardest. It’s crushing. Those are the days that I really just want to go home and down a bottle of wine alone. People underestimate the power of man’s best friend.”
He touches my hand on the table; it feels strong as if he has the ability to support someone. The tingle through my body runs heavy.
“I can imagine. Being a family doctor, sometimes I feel like I took the easy road. Most times, I refer patients to specialists if I think there is something serious. Still, there are times I have to deliver life-changing news, and I still had to do my rotations in different departments when I became a doctor. But I think the worst is when I see a child who’s unhealthy or struggling, yet the parents seem to be in denial or oblivious to what’s going on.”
I squeeze his hand. “That sounds difficult.”
“Still, I’m lucky. The last few weeks back here and my days are mostly filled with check-ups for kids who are excited to get a sticker after and old ladies who are convinced they’re ill even though I am positive they just need to down some Nyquil and skip a bridge meeting for an extra nap.”
It makes me giggle. “That sounds like Sage Creek for sure. You’re happy with your decision to move back?”
He nods and almost beams. “I am. I actually wanted to move back before I got married, but someone had a strong opinion about that. My guess is it’s the same story for you?”
I hold my wine glass out to him so he can pour me a refill. “Same story. But it doesn’t matter. As they say, everything happens for a reason.”
There is a calming pause between us.
The waiter breaks our silence by clearing the dishes and offering dessert. We decide for the crème brulée to share and a dessert wine. As the waiter leaves, I look at my phone and swipe my screen.
“Sorry. I just want to see what Romeo is up to.”
Lucas nearly spits out his water. “What?”
I laugh and explain. “There’s an app where I can basically spy on my dog while I’m away. I guess it’s the same for kids, right? Anyhow, Romeo is out like a sack of potatoes on the couch.” I show Lucas the screen and he finds this hysterical.
“Attached to the dog much?” he teases.
“Yes, actually. I adopted him a year ago. Since the ex was allergic and now it is no longer an issue. Romeo is the best. Got me back into nature, comes with me to work, loves kids, but he does eat a lot.”
Christ, I sound like a crazy cat lady sans the cat.
“At least Labradors go swim and run. My parents’ dog is more a yappy show dog.”
“Sorry. It was rude of me to check,” I apologize, but Lucas just continues to smile at me.
“I guess it’s like out with the old and in with the new. You were living without a dog and got one when you were independent again. Me? I got the dream house I wanted.”
“Exactly. I did a total cleanse so had little to move here. I even threw out most of my clothes and bought all new underwear and lingerie—” I stop my sentence and realize that wine is hitting me and I’m getting adventurous with my words. I’m feeling a little light, to be honest.
Lucas’s jaw nearly drops, and the look on his face is one of fascination and glee. His lips roll in as if he’s trying to stop an even bigger smile from spreading on his cheeks.
“This is interesting information.” There is a cunning grin on his face.
Just on time, our crème brulée arrives with wine.
“I think I will go easy on the wine,” I declare with a confident smile.
He just continues to look like he is enjoying the night.
We both tuck our spoons into the decadent dessert that we decided to share. Our spoons dancing with one another the way I would like to dance with him one day. He lets out a moan when he tastes the dessert and leans back into his chair.
“So, should we finally speak about the elephant in the room?” He says it so matter-of-fact and casual.
I lean against my propped arm on the table. “Ah. Spring Break my senior year, you mean?” I throw on a half-smile, because in all honesty this is kind of funny in hindsight. “There is nothing to talk about. It was awkward and it was right to stop. I mean, I definitely wasn’t skilled.”
He squints an eye at me. “That doesn’t matter. You were still sweet.” It comes out sentimental almost. “And wait, are you implying that I was experienced? I mean, true, I had more experience, but I wasn’t sleeping around if that’s what you thought.”
I shake my head no. “I know. You seemed like the kind of guy who would always make it romantic and would only do something if you were dating. I know your parents taught you well.”
His face almost looks cartoonish as he doubts my logic. “I guess anything before age twenty doesn’t count, right?” He grins.
“That is an excellent theory that I am in agreement with.” I return a similar look.