Page 25 of First in Line

“Here are your menus,” the hostess says, handing us leather-bound booklets. This is definitely a step up from the diner. “Tonight’s specials are the honey-glazed suckling pig in fall spices, and veal stew with wild mushrooms.”

Evie scrunches her nose at that, and when the hostess is gone, I ask, “What’s wrong with the specials?”

“I don’t like the idea of eating baby animals.”

“That’s fair,” I agree with a nod.

“Wait, mine doesn’t have prices on it,” she protests after opening her menu.

“It’s okay. You can get anything you want,” I tell her.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s my turn to spend my money however I wish.”

She grins and refocuses on her menu. After a moment of studying it, she puts it down and says, “I’ll have the escargots. I’ve always wanted to try. Then the surf and turf, and for dessert, chocolate cake.”

I nod, looking at my menu to find the prices. Shit, this place is more expensive than I thought. I already gave twenty to the valet, so I don’t have to pay him again, right? And if I take the Caesar salad, I’ll have enough to give a proper tip.

It’s like my bow tie is suddenly too tight, so I slip a finger behind it and tug to give myself some air. I really thought three hundred dollars would be more than enough for this, but I was wrong. I can’t ask her to pay for anything. I’d pass for a moron.

Evie seems to notice that something’s wrong with me, because she leans forward, pushes my menu down, and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I—I’m not very hungry, so I’ll just have the Caesar salad.”

My attempt doesn’t fool her. “Jax, you’realwayshungry.”

“Not tonight. I think all the dancing made me lose my appetite.”

She frowns. “We can go eat elsewhere. As long as we’re together, I don’t mind.”

“No, I want to do this for you, princess. You’ll have your surf and turf. And your snails. And the biggest slice of chocolate cake they have.”

“And you’ll have the Caesar salad?” she dubiously questions.

“I’m fine with that. Fiber and lean chicken. Best meal ever.”

Again, she doesn’t buy it. Not even a little. Instead of complying, she removes the cloth napkin from her lap and returns it to the table before standing up.

“What are you doing?” I ask when she extends her hand toward me.

“You’re taking me to the diner, and we’re orderingallthe desserts they have. I’ve always wanted to try that,” she explains with genuine excitement.

“Are you sure?” I insist.

“Yeah. It sounds a lot more fun than staying here with these old farts, doesn’t it?”

She has a point. It does sound like a lot of fun. And she’s always wanted to try it.

When she makes a motion with her hand, encouraging me to take it, I stop resisting. I grab it and, as if we’re dining and dashing, we run out of the fancy restaurant. I grab my key from the valet’s stand, and we keep running toward Winifred, which we can see parked half a block away.

She’s right. Fuck these old farts. We can be happy anywhere. All we need is each other.

Icheck my watch, then return my focus to the entrance of the restaurant. They’re five minutes late. Hoping I’m not being stood up, I adjust myself in the chair.

Evie and her fiancé, Nathan, are on their way here, and I’ll finally get my answers.

I can’t think of a single person good enough for her. Hell, I was never good enough for her. Not even a little. So I’m beyond curious to see who was perfect enough to win her heart, as well as her hand in marriage. Who’s the lucky guy she plans on spending the rest of her life with.