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Grace knew she had to look as if she’d seen a ghost, but she hadn’t been expecting his question. “Dinner?”
“I haven’t had good Italian food since before I left on my last tour, and a friend told me about a restaurant here in town I’ve wanted to try. I’d be honored if you’d come with me.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but her husband’s insistence that she move on was there in the back of her mind. Going to dinner with Alexander would be a good test run to see if she could do this. “I need to take my groceries home first.”
His answering smile had nervous butterflies dancing in her belly. “That’s perfect. How about I pick you up at six? That will give me time to make the reservations and change.”
“Sure,” she said. The butterflies were fluttering away with no sign of stopping. “Six.”
Picking her up at her house? Reservations? Whether it was supposed to be or not, it was sounding very much like a date.
***
Chapter 4
Grace checked her reflection in the mirror for the sixth time. She had no idea what to wear so she’d stuck with a dark blue skirt she’d had for a while and a simple white shirt. They were going to dinner and she wanted to look halfway put together on the outside even if she was feeling like a jumbled mess on the inside.
The thought of putting herself out there again scared the hell out of her. She’d only dated a few guys before she’d met Kurt in her freshman year of college. Even if she found a Dom who would meet her submissive needs and forget about the rest, she’d still have to open herself up to someone new and that wasn’t something she’d done, at least not on such an intimate level, for over a decade. She also knew that wasn’t what her husband had asked of her. He wanted her to move on, and she knew that meant more than just finding a new Dom.
But first things first. She’d go out to dinner with Alexander, talk, and try to have a good time. Baby steps.
The sound of her doorbell sent her heart racing. Not a date, she reminded herself.
After looking through the peephole to confirm it was Alexander, she unlatched the chain and opened the door. He was dressed in a suit and tie, freshly shaved—and in one hand he held a black cane.
“I’m a little early,” he said, bringing her attention to his face once more. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready, but I didn’t want to sit out in my car like some crazy stalker.”
She knew it was meant as a joke, but she was too anxious to laugh. “Let me grab my purse, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
Before he was able to respond, Grace hurried inside and snatched her purse from where she’d left it in the kitchen. He was still standing in the same spot when she returned, patiently waiting for her. She locked up and they headed out.
He held the car door open for her and waited while she slid into the passenger seat. “You look nice this evening.”
Heat flooded her cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you.”
Grace took several deep breaths as he made his way around the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. It would make her look like a crazy person if she started to hyperventilate. This was not a date. They were... friends? Acquaintances? Two people having dinner together.
Alexander pulled away from the curb and headed toward downtown. “This is supposed to be the best Italian restaurant in St. Louis. Being of Italian heritage, it’s hard to find places that live up to my standards.” He glanced over at her, humor in his eyes.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had anything besides spaghetti with sauce that came from a jar.”
He gasped in mock horror. His gaze flashed in her direction, his eyes wide, before turning back to the road. “Blasphemy!”
A bubble of laugher built in her chest and escaped her lips before she could stop it. It felt good. But there was a little voice in her head that told her she should feel guilty about that.
When her laughter abruptly cut short, he noticed. “Feeling guilty?”
She had no idea how he’d known that. “How did you—”
“I’m a doctor, remember? And I was in the Army for ten years. I’ve seen survivor’s guilt many times.” He paused. “Too many times.”
Survivor’s guilt. That pretty much summed it up. Why should she be happy and enjoy life when Kurt couldn’t?
She already knew the answer to that, too.
“You were happy and you felt guilty about it, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Like you shouldn’t get to go on and be happy because he can’t.”
She pinched the fabric of her skirt with her fingertips and released it several times before answering. “Something like that.”
