I grabbed the trench coat from my front closet. My mom bought it for me during one of my visits when I was eighteen.
It was the dead of winter, and a sudden storm hit the east coast. Before I woke up one morning, she trudged through several inches of powdery snow to buy us matching coats.
Hers is still in the closet. I did donate most of her clothing after she passed, but the floral scent of her perfume is still clinging to that coat, so it’s a keeper.
“Their name?” The white-haired host asks with a smile.
“Morgan. Berk Morgan,” I say loud enough that he can hear me over the voices of a group of men waiting for a table.
“Mr. Morgan arrived a short while ago.” His finger darts toward the left. “He’s seated at the bar. Your table will be ready momentarily.”
“Thank you.” I suck in a deep breath, steady my feet in my nude heels, and set off toward the bar.
Before I get very far, the crowd breaks, and I get my first view of Berk sitting on a leather barstool.
I stop to admire him because he’s breathtaking in a way that makes my heartbeat quicken. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, a white button-down shirt, and a light blue tie.
His hair is shorter than it was the other day, and he’s still sporting a growth of light beard on his face.
When he glances in my direction, our eyes meet, and that picture is pure perfection because a smile slowly slides over his lips.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself. “It’s just sex. Don’t let your heart loose.”
I can’t fall for him.
I won’t fall for him.
We’ll have a nice dinner, and then he’ll take me to bed. Tomorrow this will all be a memory I’ll cherish forever.
I chant that silently as I step up my pace on my approach to where he is.
He glides to his feet, reaching out a hand as I step near him.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s got me wrapped in his strong arms, affording me the gift of a whiff of his cologne.
I could stay like this, in his embrace, all night, but he breaks it with two words. “You’re beautiful.”
I look up and into his blue eyes. “Thank you.”
Often, I’ll shy away from the compliments tossed my way by men because there’s no weight behind them.
I can tell by the way that Berk is looking at me that he genuinely thinks I’m beautiful.
“You look good too,” I say. “You cut your hair.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “A professional worked their magic. I tried to handle that on my own once when I was ten, maybe eleven years old.”
I hold in a chuckle. “Was it bad?”
Smiling, he shakes his head. “So bad that my mom took a razor to my head.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” He laughs. “Thankfully, it was in the middle of summer. I had some growth by the time school started.”
I stare at him, wondering what he was like at that age.
“Mr. Morgan?”
We both turn at the sound of a woman’s voice next to us. She’s wearing a dress that is similar to mine.
“Your table is ready, sir.” She smiles at Berk before she offers me a slight grin. “If you’ll follow me.”
I fall in step behind her. My breath catches on my third step when I feel Berk’s hand on the small of my back as he walks beside me.
When we reach the table, he rounds it to pull out my chair while I sit.
Once he’s seated too, he leans forward in his chair as the hostess explains that our server will be right with us. His eyes don’t leave mine, though.
It’s a random moment in time, but to me, it’s the start of a night that will be imprinted in my memory forever. This is a night that will fuel the lyrics to one of my future songs. I feel that with everything I am.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Astrid
“Sparkling water, please.”
The server nods as he taps something on his tablet screen before directing his attention to Berk. “And for you, sir?”
Berk smiles at him and holds up a hand as if he’s asking for a moment. Then he looks at me. “No lemonade and gin tonight, Astrid?”
I shake my head. “This is a dry dinner for me. No alcohol.”
With a nod, he glances up at the server again. “I’ll have sparkling water too.”
“You don’t have to refrain because of me,” I pipe up. “I don’t mind at all if you order something stronger.”
The server’s brow perks. “What will it be, sir?”
“Water,” Berk repeats. “Sparkling water will be just fine.”
“I’ll give you a few moments to look over our menu.” The server taps the corner of the menu he placed in front of me. “If you have any questions, please wave me over.”