“I was stood up there once.” He sipped his wine. “I never had the chance to enjoy it with the beautiful woman I was supposed to meet.”
I looked over the menu, appreciating the fact that he’d remembered I didn’t like seafood. I decided to order the nine course option that featured baked lamb and caramelized chicken.
Jonathan ordered the same and the first course was brought out within minutes.
The presentation of the food was surreal. Every vegetable was bright and plump; every piece of meat was tender and brown. It almost looked too perfect to eat.
I took it all in once more before picking up my fork and tasting a bite of the appetizer.
This is amazing...
I tried to think of something to say, something to discuss, but I was utterly speechless. No man had ever paid so much attention to a date’s details before, not even Ryan.
“Do you like the food, Claire?” He looked into my eyes.
“I love it...Its perfect.” I smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you have to pay to get the city to let you do this?”
“You really want to know?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“I just want to know...It cost us fifty thousand to rent a quarter mile with traffic. Did this cost you one million? Two?”
“A lot more than that, but you’re worth it.” He smiled and sipped his wine. “Ready for the next course?”
The waiter brought out course after course, and by the time dessert was brought out, I could only eat a spoonful of the peach flavored mousse.
“Come on.” Jonathan stood up and reached for my hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I stepped over to the railing of the bridge, looking down at the ocean. A strong gust of wind blew against me and I shivered.
“You’re cold?” Jonathan took off his jacket and placed it over me.
“Thank you...I know we’re barely in spring, but have you ever wondered why it’s so cold here in the summers? When I first moved here I was looking forward to sunny summer days but they’re worse than the winter months.”
“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. That’s what every local says when people ask about the summers.”
“A Mark Twain quote?”
“Supposedly.” He laughed. “They claim he said it but I’m not completely convinced...I like to read a lot too.”
Really? “What’s your favorite book?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh...”
“I promise.”
“Harry Potter.”
I tossed my head back and laughed hysterically. “What?”
“You promised.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Were you one of those people who went to all the midnight book releases?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No one ever took me to anything like that. I snuck off to the bookstore on the weekends and read the entire book in the store until I went off to college. As a matter of fact, the first purchase I made once I started making money was the entire collection in hardback and paperback. I even have the signed editions. What’s your favorite book?”
“I have way too many...”
“Top five?”
“What genre?”
He looked down at me and smiled. “Are you naturally difficult or do you work extra hard to be?”
“I’m not difficult...I like Animal Farm by George Orwell, Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, any book written by Joan Didion, and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi.”
“Hmmm. I’ve read all of those except Eat, Pray, Love. I’ll have to check that one out to see where your head is...Can I ask you something personal?” He backed me against the red railing.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” He lowered his voice and looked into my eyes. “It’s a really personal question...” He tugged at my necklace.
“Yes...”
He pressed his chest against mine. “In the past, how many guys have you been with?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
I nodded.
He smiled and clasped my hand, walking me further and further down the bridge, towards a group of black benches that were spread out across the lanes.
“So, is the third guy the charm, Claire?”
“No, that’s not what I....I meant two including you.”
“What?” He stopped walking. “Your ex-husband was your first?”
“Yeah, we were high school sweethearts...Before him I messed around with a few guys here or there, but we never had traditional sex—just kisses and dry humping and...” I sighed. “Are you in desperate need of an ego boost right now? Are you going to ask me which one of you is better?”
“I don’t ask questions I already know the answer to. What is traditional sex?”
“Are you twelve or twenty eight?”
“Twenty-nine in the summer.”
“It’s just sex. You know, what you and I have been doing for a while.”
“Does ‘traditional sex’ include oral?” He joked.
I stilled. I looked out over the ocean and focused on a small tugboat that was making its way towards us. I needed to figure out a way to change the subject.
“Claire?” He cupped my chin. “Did you say yes?”