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He sips his beer. “Yep.”
“Okay, I have one. At a Vacation Dinner, you don’t have to worry about how many carbs are in your croutons.”
“And you get to steal fries.” He shifts his plate so that the crispy golden potato strips are closer to my side of the table.
My mouth waters.
He tips ketchup into a dish and places it between us. “Also, you don’t have to worry if you get ketchup on your clothes.”
“It won’t even show on a black dress.” I reach for a fried potato, dip it in the ketchup, and take a bite. The fluffy potato, fried to a crisp, melts on my tongue.
“I’m not worried about you,” he chuckles. “I’m worried about me.”
“Okay, I have another rule for Vacation Dinners.”
“Hang on… I have an amendment. I don’t like rules. Let’s call ‘em guidelines.”
“Great… guidelines. Here’s mine. If the wine’s the best you’ve ever tasted in your life, you enjoy a second glass.”
“If the moon rises over the water, you get to gawk with wonder.”
“Oh, there will be gawking,” I laugh.
“And… if the woman across from you is beautiful, you can tell her that whenever you feel like it, without pretending you’re talking about something else.”
My breath hitches. I lift my eyes.
“I know I already said it,” he murmurs in that deep, rumbly way he has. “But I feel like saying it again. You look beautiful tonight, Hazel.”
“I tried to find something that wasn’t black but failed. Turns out, my wardrobe is sort of drab these days.”
“There’s nothing wrong with black. It’s a classic color. It suits you.”
“Because I’m boring?”
“Because you’re elegant. A little more sophisticated than the rest of us.” He brings a fry to his mouth and bites it. “You’re also different than a lot of people I meet. Super thoughtful. You sort of move at a different pace than most people… you’ve got a unique vibe. Yeah, more serious, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I think it’s pretty cool.”
A tight knot, somewhere deep inside me, gives way.
Stress I didn’t even know I was holding…
It evaporates.
Maybe I’m not broken. Maybe I’m not boring, drab, and dark.
Maybe I’m elegant.
And… yes, different than a lot of people. Maybe I’m okay, just being me. At least, Jack Morgan seems to think so.
I nestle my laptop into the computer bag at my feet and zip the top.
When I straighten up, I lift my glass. “To Hawaii.”
“To Hawaii,” he says, clinking his drink to mine.
Chapter 13
Hazel
