He pulled out his credit card and handed it off. “I don’t doubt your abilities. But my bank account is telling me not to push my luck.”
Jack stood and walked around to her side of the table. But instead of helping her up like she expected, he leaned close to her ear. “But April, I would buy you five more dinners just like this one if it meant I could spend more time with you.”
She swallowed, thankful the restaurant’s dim lighting kept him from seeing the pink, red, purple of her suddenly flushed cheeks. Her mind played a card game of make-a-match inside her head, but she couldn’t come up with two similar thoughts, let alone any that were the least bit coherent.
“Okay.” That was all she had; the only word her stupid brain could think of to say.
As if sensing her awkwardness, Jack simply breathed a quiet laugh and led her into the night air.
“So I forgot to tell you—you’re a great singer.”
“That may be true, but I’ll never forgive you for the way you found out.”
“First of all, I heard you years ago. Second of all, forgiveness is a virtue, and I’m pretty sure it’s a commandment.”
“I’m equally sure you’re wrong on both counts. Forgiveness is a choice, one I’m refusing to make at this particular moment.” She shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Maybe . . . one week from not at all.”
She felt his foot kick her backside. “Come on, April. Give a guy a break. There’s never been a better rendition of ‘Open Arms’ performed by a woman before.”
“Correction—there’s never been a rendition of that song performed by a woman before except at high school talent shows in the eighties. And we both know nothing good came out of that decade.”
“I was born in that decade.”
April shrugged. “Exactly.”
He laughed. “I deserved that.”
For the next several moments, they walked in silence, bypassing his car and leaving the parking lot entirely, neither of them in a hurry to go home. April crossed her arms to ward off a shiver of sudden nervousness, then looked up at the stars and offered up a little prayer for calmness. It was weird being alone with him . . . intimate in a way she had never felt before, not with any guy she’d dated. Up until now, all her relationships had been casual. Controlled. April keeping them at arm’s length even as they tried to pull her as close to their bodies as they possibly could—a constant tug-of-war.
In a word, this experience was new.
With Jack, she felt different. Like she could tell him her deepest secrets and not be afraid he would share them. Like she could put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and her oldest T-shirt and he would still find her beautiful. Like she wanted to know everything about him and wanted to be known herself. Like—
“What is that?” He swiped something out of her pocket. She tried to snatch it out of his hands but didn’t move fast enough. When he held it up to further inspect the item, she lunged.
“Give me that!”
He laughed and raised it out of her reach. “Someone doesn’t want me to read this.” He looked up at the white cotton square. “And would you look here. It’s a bar napkin with words on it.” He could barely speak around the stupid way he laughed. “This looks a lot like song lyrics to me.” Her mouth dropped open when he started reading them out loud. “‘When I was young I dreamed of writing your name on my heart—’ ”
“Jack! Give that to me!” She jumped to grab it, but failed.
“Not until I finish reading it.” Jack held it over his head and kept going. “‘But then I woke up alone and discovered my heart would barely start . . .’ ”
Finally, she snatched it from his grasp. “Jack, that’s private. Something I wrote last night after the wedding. It isn’t even that good.” She fisted it, tucking it out-of-sight inside her palm.
His smile softened as his gaze grew more serious. Then he reached for her hand, bringing it slowly between them. She had no choice but to loosen her grip—everything inside her had melted. It only made sense that an iron grip would give way as well.
Slowly, Jack pulled the paper from her hand. “It seems to me,” he said, a soft smile curving his lips, “that one night several years ago, I came across a napkin a lot like this one. And written on it were some of the best lines I’ve ever read.”
April blinked up at him, a wave of emotion rolling through her at the long-awaited compliment. All she’d ever really wanted was affirmation, and he was the only man who could give it to her.