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CHAPTER 4
Miller
Sittingacross from Denise in one of my favorite restaurants, The French Table. An elegant and pricey place, that is a little too on the nose but has delicious food. The soft glow of candlelight casts a warm aura over our intimate table, creating an ambiance of romance that could set the perfect mood. The soothing melody of jazz music fills the air, adding to the evening.
As our server approaches with the menus, I can’t help but steal a glance at her, marveling at her beauty in the light. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her smile radiant as she peruses the menu with a sense of eager anticipation.
When the server returns to take our order, I suggest a selection of cheese souffle and wild mushrooms, hoping to impress her.
I watch with delight as she eagerly agrees; her smile contagious as she returns to the menu.
She sets her menu down and folds her hands in front of her.
“You know, you have my phone number. You could have texted or called.”
“You would prefer that I don’t show up to your work and stalk you?” I joke.
“If it becomes a problem, don’t worry. I’ll make it known.” She grins.
“Like to me, or the cops?”
“Funny. Are you more of a chicken or beef kind of guy?” she asks.
“I’m more of a fish type. I like both chicken and red meats, but I’m huge on seafood.”
“Okay, so let me try to guess what you’re going to order.” She places her finger on the menu, and the tip of her tongue peeks between her teeth and the corner of her lips.”
“I got it, grilled tuna with garlic aioli.” She looks up with a sure-of-herself look.
I playfully make a buzzer sound. “Close, but no cigar. The broiled swordfish here is pretty damn good here.”
Our appetizers arrive and moments later, our server arrives to bring us our wine glasses and take our dinner orders. Denise is admiring the adornment of food in front of her and offers him a smile as she orders. Denise savors each bite, moaning in appreciation as she sips on a glass of crisp white wine.
“My goodness, these flavors are dancing across my taste buds.” She sighs.
After we eat dinner, we linger over dessert, sharing a single plate of a decadent chocolate lava cake, wafers, and vanilla bean ice cream with a drizzle of raspberry coulis. As we savor the dessert, her eyes sparkle with delight, mirroring my excitement.
“What do you have going on tomorrow?” I ask.
“I have class and then I need to study for an exam.”
“For what class?”
“Differential Equations.”
“Math. My favorite.”
“Excuse me? Who in their right mind loves math?”
“Someone who is into the sciences and maths of the world.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Math and science?” I try not to laugh.
“That’s not a profession. I know that. But do you do something in that kind of field?”
I told her about my work and my company while she sat there in awe. She listened while I told her what we do, and what kind of projects we’re hoping to do in the future.
