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I touch up my makeup and force a smile on my face. This guy is going to buy me an expensive dinner, so I at least need to be good company.
On a whim, I pull my phone out of my purse and take a look.
Still no response to my many texts and phone calls.
Fine.
I’m still going to have a nice dinner tonight anyway.
I smile at the woman next to me washing her hands and then exit the restroom, walking slowly back to the table, trying to look confident.
“I took the liberty of ordering some champagne,” Logan says.
“How nice,” I say.
“Only the best for a woman of your stature.”
The sommelier comes by with a bottle of Dom Perignon. He shows the bottle to Logan, who nods. Then he expertly uncorks the bottle. I stare at the smoky condensation that drifts up from the bottle opening.
The sommelier pours a small amount into a flute and hands it to Logan. Logan peers at the flute, swirls it a bit, inhales, and then takes a drink.
“Excellent,” he says.
“Good, sir.” The sommelier fills my flute expertly, not a bit of foam going over the top, and then fills the remainder of Logan’s flute. He then bows and leaves us.
Logan picks up his flute and smiles. “To a wonderful evening.”
I clink my glass to his but say nothing and then take a sip of the champagne.
It’s surprisingly good. I’ve never had real champagne before. I’ve had the Steel sparkling wine at their parties, and it’s delicious. And then of course I’ve had cheap California sparkling wine, but I wasn’t in France long enough to actually taste real champagne.
And now here I am, in Grand Junction, Colorado, having real champagne with a strange man.
He seems like a kind man, but he’s a strange man nonetheless.
And I begin to feel guilty.
He’s probably expecting a little slap and tickle tonight after spending all this money on such a beautiful dinner for me.
I should probably tell him I’m not interested in that.
But I don’t.
I take another drink of my champagne instead.
Our server comes by, dressed in a white blouse and simple black pants. “Good evening, I’m Charity, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. I see you’re already set with your cocktail selection. Would you care for any appetizers?”
I blink. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t even looked at the menu.”
“Bring us a selection of your best oysters on the half shell,” Logan says. He looks at me. “You do like oysters, don’t you, Madeline?”
“Of course.”
I’ve only had oysters on the half shell once, and they were kind of slimy, but they tasted good.
“Right away, sir.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You know oysters are an aphrodisiac.”
