“A very good one,” Flavia adds, and her voice is tinged with sadness. “Well, I’ll take care of little Bria, here. Nick, just call the room if you need anything.”
“Thanks. We’ll just be at the restaurant down the road.” He goes back into the room and pulls out a sheet of paper and writes down a number. “Here’s the extension. Call for anything.” Then he kisses Flavia on the cheek and takes my arm. “Ready?” His eyes are bright with excitement.
“Yes,” I breathe, and Flavia takes Bria back into the master bedroom. “Will Bria be okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Flavia is an old family friend. Bria knows and loves her. They’re just going to watch a movie before bed.”
“Okay,” I say uncertainly. Nick leads us up the path to the golf cart. “Thank you for the flower,” I say, gesturing to the dahlia.
“You’re welcome, Evianna,” Nick says properly, and I have to keep myself from laughing. He’s really in date-night mode. “After you,” he says, gesturing for me to get into the cart first.
He holds my hand and helps me up. Once I’m seated, he comes around to the driver’s side and starts the engine. I hold the dahlia in my hand and smile. I like “date Nick” already. He slides an arm around my shoulder and reverses onto the main road. I turn to look at him, and he’s smiling at me.
“What?” I ask, suddenly shy.
“You look really beautiful. I can’t stop staring.”
“Thank you,” I say weakly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I change my mind.
I’m not sure I can handle “date Nick.”
He drives us slowly along the jungle path, and once we reach the lobby, he stops the cart and hops out, holding his hand out for mine. I place it in his hand, and I set the dahlia on the cart seat so that it doesn’t get ruined. He pulls me forward and into the lobby.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Wilder,” the hotel concierge says.
My body tenses.
Oh fuck, this is going to set him off.
But he just nods and keeps walking. I tug on his arm, and he looks down at me.
“Don’t you think we should correct him?” I whisper. I’m horrified.
“Nah. It was just an honest mistake,” he says, walking more quickly now towards the back of the hotel, where I presume the restaurant awaits us.
“But—”
He stops and faces me, cutting me off.
“Evianna, there was once a time where someone calling you Mrs. Wilder would’ve freaked me out. Now is not one of those times. If only I could be so lucky…”
He turns again and takes my hand, dragging me to the restaurant.
Well, he’s certainly gotten over the big Wheel incident, then.
As we walk, I gasp when I see the table that I can only presume is ours. It’s a private room of sorts—I hadn’t noticed it the other times we came here.
“Nick,” I say breathily, “this is gorgeous.”
We have a private table on a deck overlooking the ocean, and candles dot the walkway and light the table. Bright, local flowers sit in a short, white vase, acting as a centerpiece, and white plates and gold silverware make up the rest of the table. Our table is the only one on the deck, and I notice the deck is screened in, though it doesn’t take away from the beauty.
“Mosquitos,” Nick whispers, gesturing to the screens. “They’re tenacious here, so I made sure there were screens so you wouldn’t get bitten.”
Somehow, that’s the weirdest thing but also the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
Nick pulls my chair out as the waiter pours us some white wine. I raise my eyebrows.
“Nicholas Wilder, I am thoroughly impressed.”
“Oh, I can be very romantic when I want to be,” he says confidently, and for some reason, the way he says it sends chills down my body. The waiter leaves. “Cheers,” he says, holding up his wine glass.