My hair flies all over my face, and the carefully applied eye makeup is running as the wind causes my eyes to tear up, but none of that matters, I hold my hands above my head letting the breeze run through my fingers. I haven’t felt this alive in years. The car slows as we reach what I assume to be our destination, and Andrew pulls into the deserted parking lot as another man in a suit rushes outside to greet us. This place is fancy with a capital F, the black exterior of the building with low lighting and palm trees surrounding the entrance remind me that we aren’t broke kids with nothing to our names anymore.
“Where is everyone?” I ask as he drives into the circular driveway for valet. My head whips around to see if anyone else is here, but there isn’t a single car in the parking lot.
“ I- uh, rented it out,” he smiles sheepishly.
“This whole place?” I guffaw. “That must have cost a fortune.”
“You’re worth it.” Insert swoony heart eyes here. “And you haven’t been out in public with me in a long time, babe, people are ruthless. I didn’t want us to be interrupted.” My chest tightens with how sweet he’s being, the amount of thought he must have put into this night.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice sincere.
“Mr. Denson, Ms. Graham, thank you for joining us this evening, we have set up a wonderful table for the two of you overlooking the lake. Juliet will be your server, and she will take exceptional care of you.” The man in the suit says as he greets us at the doors.
“How does he know my name?” I whisper to Andrew as we walk into the restaurant.
“You’ll see.” he winks, and I blush, moving my tangled mess of hair to one side of my head.
“Hello Mr. Denson, we’re excited you're here,” the brunette waitress practically purrs. Her eyes rake over Andrew like he’s a full size meal, ready to be devoured. She’s pretty but young. “Follow me,” she commands, our menus grasped within her palms. We walk through the empty restaurant hand in hand. The way his hand feels in mine just feels right, I can’t explain it, it’s like coming home after being away for too long. The table is in the middle of what looks to be a small greenhouse overlooking Lake Austin, I love it as soon as I see it. Flowers and plants grow around the windows, and the fresh air off the lake makes the whole room feel serene. I stop just before we walk through the opening to the room, taking in the entire view, cataloging this into my memories forever. I spot a title above the door in bold gold lettering ‘Graham’s Garden,’ how cool that he thought of this, to take me somewhere that has my name in it.
“Look, it has my name in it.” I exclaim, pointing up to the words above the door. The waitress clears her throat, and Andrew smiles politely at her.
“So it does,” he says with a rueful smile. Once we reach the table, he pulls out my chair for me, I take a seat and the waitress places the hardback menus on either side of the table.
“Can I get you both anything to drink?” she asks, her hands clasped in front of her.
“What would you recommend?” I ask. I love signature drinks that you can only get at certain restaurants.
“The Poisoned Petals is delicious if you like vodka,” she smiles. The name might be my new favorite thing.
“I’d love that.” I reply cheerfully.
“I’ll have a whiskey neat, please.” Andrew says, smiling at me.
“This place is so cool.” I say, turning around to look at everything. “Oh look at the bar.” I gasp, taking in the old school mafia feel to it. There’s two tommy guns crossed above the beer taps, and the entire back wall is covered in most wanted pictures from the twenties and thirties.
“Yeah, Boston went a little nuts with that one.” Andrew laughs.
“Oh my gosh, he’s been here too? Do you guys come here a lot when you’re not on tour?” I ask, hope in my tone. I would love to come back here sometime.
“Yeah, we come here fairly often.” Andrew says, clearing his throat. He picks up the menu and starts inspecting it. The black hardback menu has a rose pattern across the front, and I recognize it immediately. ‘Pistol in the Petals’ is written across the front of the menu in red cursive, and the picture ingrained behind it is the same one he has on his chest. Graham’s Garden is the room we’re sitting in, I just ordered a Poisoned Petals drink, and the gentleman at the front knew my name….
“Do you own this place?” I narrow my eyes at him even though he can’t see me over the menu.
“Boston and I do, yeah.” He says, not putting the menu down to look at me. I grab the top of the menu with force, ripping it out of his hands. His eyes meet mine, and I can tell he’s fighting a smile.
“You could have told me, I just looked like an idiot getting excited over my last name on the outside of this room.” I spit as embarrassment floods me. He probably thinks I’m a slow learner.
“But your face was so cute, I thought you would get it once you saw the menus, but you didn’t, and then you ordered a drink with your band's name in it. I’m sorry, it was adorable.”
“I don’t like looking like a fool.” I pout.
“You didn’t. Seriously, it was really sweet.” His large hand covers mine on the table, and the anger I was feeling slowly starts to dissipate. I pick up the menu and scan the options for dinner.
“Speaking of not looking like a fool, are you ever going to tell me what secrets you're hiding?” He says, nonchalantly.
“It wouldn’t be a secret if we both knew, now would it?” I quip, a sweet smile placed on my face.
“True. I will find out though, you know that, right?” he says, pulling my menu down so he can look at me. I nod slowly, I know he will, but I would like to stay in this little happy bubble for a little while longer.