into an alley entrance, and a young woman dressed all in black finds our reservation.
“Right this way, Mr. Alexander.” She picks up two large menus and leads us through the small dining area filled with white-covered tables.
Recessed lighting casts the entire room in an amber glow, and large bouquets of red-orange lilies overflow from metal urns.
Derek touches my arm. “Would you like to sit outside?”
The small dining room feels too close for what we might discuss, so I nod. The young woman leads us into a brick-lined courtyard and seats us at a black iron table and chairs. Vibrant green palms fill the flowerbeds and ivy climbs the walls. Crepe myrtle trees stretch tall overhead and star-shaped lanterns hang from their smooth, thick trunks. A red amaryllis springs from a planter attached above a fountain, and the sound of water provides a soothing backdrop.
Once we’re seated, Derek orders two glasses of cava. I can’t help smiling, thinking of that very first night we met. It seems so long ago. The young woman leaves, and Derek stretches a hand across the table to me. I put mine in his, studying the contrast of my pale skin to his rich olive complexion.
“Hidden in this courtyard, I can almost forget the terrible things ahead of us.” I say, watching his fingers close around mine.
“I’m glad to hear it. At first I couldn’t accept what had happened to you. Now I only want to set you free.”
Our eyes meet, and I have to blink away the mist. “Why?” I have to know. It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t ask.
“Why?” He lets out a chuckle at my question.
“Yes,” I’m earnest. “Why of all the options in that bar that night. Why me?”
“Why you,” he repeats as if it’s an academic problem, but I can tell from the gleam in his eyes he’s ready to play. “I guess I love long dark curls and blue eyes.”
His mood makes me want to tease back, but the server appears with a dark green bottle and two flutes. The cork releases with a loud Pop! and she pours us each a glass of sparkling wine.
Before she leaves, we order from the End of Summer menu. Eggplant caviar and tapenade for me followed by wild Alaskan salmon with Gewurztraminer sauce. Derek chooses a smoked quail salad followed by peppered lamb loin with goat cheese and Zinfandel sauce. French Burgundy will accompany our meal and the waitress disappears, giving us a chance to resume our conversation.
We’re quiet a moment, and my mind drifts back to all the questions I want to ask him. He lifts his flute and holds it toward mine.
“To the little things,” he says.
Clinking my glass against his, I smile. “Especially when everything else is so overwhelming.”
He takes a quick sip before putting the glass down again and taking my hand. “Tonight it’s just us. Tomorrow, we’ll worry about finishing this business.”
The level of confidence in his voice is enough to convince me. Our salads arrive, and I pick up my fork to sample the salty caviar mixed with eggplant.
“Your turn,” he smiles. “Where did you grow up?”
“Near the beach in Wilmington.” Using the butter knife, I spread the dark brown tapenade on a slice of French bread. “Elaine and I grew up together playing in the water, building sand castles.”
“Has she always read minds?” He waits as I take a bite of the savory blend of olives and capers. Nodding, I clear it away. “She thought I was telling her things. I thought she was going crazy.”
That makes him smile as he spears a bit of quail with pears. “How did you figure out what was happening?”
“I finally faced her while she was answering a question, and she realized my lips weren’t moving.”
“Hmm,” he nods. “She did that to me earlier. It’s unnerving.”
“Yes,” I agree with a little laugh.
Remembering that day so long ago still makes me smile. We were two pre-teen girls running and playing in the sand. We hadn’t started caring about boys yet, and our days were spent exploring the dunes and climbing the rocks, watching the breakers hit them with such force the white surf shot in the air like a geyser.
“We spent the rest of that summer testing her abilities,” I continue. “We had no idea what was coming.”
Two servers appear with our dinner entrees and the wine. We wait as they take care of our needs, and when they leave, I’m feeling less nostalgic.
“As we got older, she hated her