I paused and swallowed hard. Sure, Jim and I had our problems. Okay, lots of problems, but it didn't mean that I was unhappy. "Yes, I am," I said weakly, not sure I even believed myself at this point.
"Well, then that is all that matters. If you’re happy, I'm happy."
"I am." I was quiet for a moment. How did Cara do that. How did she see right through everything? How did she know I was as unsure of this as I was the day I walked away from my life back home? How did she know I was constantly guessing whether this relationship was right for me, even after three years together? I glanced at the clock and knew if I didn't get going, I was going to be late. "All right, you, I have to get going. I am supposed to meet Jim at the restaurant at six."
"All right, well, Happy Valentine's Day, and I will call you tomorrow. Love you, bug."
"Love you too."
Tracingthe rim of my half-empty wine glass, I glanced at my watch. It was almost seven, and I had been waiting for Jim for almost an hour. A loud gasp, followed by an excited scream, pulled my attention to the corner of the room where a man knelt down on the ground, a black velvet box perched in his hand as the woman across from him slipped the ring excitedly onto her finger. I smiled softly as I watched the woman throw her arms around him.
"Hey, sorry I'm late." I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder. Jim pulled the chair out across from me and sat down. He looked exhausted, his hair disheveled—a normal look from him running his fingers through after a stressful day. His suit jacket hung open, he’d already removed his tie, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone.
"It's okay." I shrugged, picking up my wine glass. "I had good company." I giggled, holding up my glass. "Although, you really should try this wine before I finish the entire bottle."
"I see that." He smiled, but it didn't quit reach his eyes. "I'm good. It's been a really long day."
I frowned. This wasn't the normal Jim, and I was wondering what had caused the lack of happiness on his face. He ran his hand through his hair once again, shrugged out of his suit jacket, and picked up the menu that was sitting on the table in front of him. He had barely looked at it before closing it again and letting out a sigh.
"Is everything okay?" I could hear the concern in my voice, and suddenly I could no longer feel the effects of the wine I'd drank. I placed my glass down on the table to give him my undivided attention, in case he wanted to talk.
"Yeah, like I said, it was a long day."
"If you weren't feeling up to tonight, you could have called. I'd have understood. I could have just come over and made dinner for us at your place."
"Welcome to The Porter House. Could I take your order?" the server asked, approaching our table, interrupting us, and quickly emptied the rest of the wine from the bottle into Jim's glass.
I was about to ask if we could have a couple more minutes to give Jim time to look over the menu, but he held up his hand and smiled at the server. "I'll have the steak, rare, double baked potato, and garlic mushrooms and onions on the side," he murmured, closing the menu and pulling his cell phone from his breast pocket.
"Great choice, and for you, miss?"
I sat there looking at the man who sat across from me, not sure what to say. We'd never been to this restaurant before, yet he knew exactly what to order.
"Miss?"
"I'll have the chicken."
"And for the side?"
"Rice and steamed vegetables," I mumbled absentmindedly.
"Very good. More wine?"
Jim glanced up at me, and when I didn't answer, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Please."
I watched as the server walked away, and once she was out of earshot, I turned back to Jim. He sat there, his face in his phone, as if I weren't even here. I could feel the tension building in my chest. Something was wrong. "I thought you said you've never been here before?" I questioned.
"I haven't," he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"Then how did you know what to order?"
Jim squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with my question, then pulled his phone from his pocket again and began typing.
"Are you going to answer me?" I demanded.
"Sorry, it was work. I studied the menu earlier today, between meetings," he mumbled.
I looked down at the place setting in front of me, not sure what more to say. I took a sip of wine and looked back over at Jim, watching him type while I sat and waited for him to put his phone back in his pocket. Another squeal of excitement from across the room caught my attention and revealed yet another couple confessing their love to one another with an accepted proposal. I turned back to Jim, a large smile on my face that quickly faded away when I saw he still had his cell phone in hand, still typing away to someone.