“Thank you,” Katee says.
“Your server will be by to take your order, and I’ll send over a bottle of champagne.”
She places our menus in front of us, and Katee giggles. “Champagne.”
My mind goes back to when I poured it over her belly. But I can’t think about that right now. This is not the place for a hard on. “Remember when we were kids and you drank too much champagne?” I ask.
She waves her hand at me. “I’m not sixteen anymore. I can handle my liquor now.”
“You danced on my patio table, nearly fell and broke your damn neck.”
“Good thing you were there to catch me.”
I nod. “I’ll always be there to catch you,” I say, and she goes quiet when the champagne arrives. The server introduces himself and presents the bottle. He uncorks it, and pours a splash into my glass. I taste it and nod in approval. The server fills Katee’s, the, adds more to my glass.
Once he leaves, I says, “I had to carry you home and put you to bed.”
“Thank God Mom wasn’t home. She would have killed me.” She goes quiet for a moment, like she’s remembering the event, then says, “Wait, didn’t I wake up in my pajamas?”
“I undressed you.”
“Why would you do that?” She angles her head and pinches her lips tight. “Did you at least close your eyes?”
I laugh. “You couldn’t go to bed in your clothes. You got sick all over them, and no, I didn’t close my eyes.”
She groans. “Luke…I didn’t want you to see me like that, I was…”
“Perfect.” She rolls her eyes at me, and we clink glasses. “To perfection,” I say.
I open my menu, and quickly shut it. “That was fast,” she teases and I shake my head at her.
“I’m getting—”
“Let me guess,” she says and looks over the menu. “Surf and turf.”
“You got it.” She closes her menu. “I’m going to have the same.” I take another sip of champagne, and look her over as she glances out the window. “Some of those kids are so good on skiis.”
“Do you really not want kids?” I ask her.
She screws up her nose. “I don’t know. I guess maybe someday, but I don’t want to be a single mom, and marriage is out of the question.”
“If the right guy came along, would you rethink it?”
She laughs. “I don’t think there are any right guys for me, Luke.”
I lean toward her. “Okay, describe your perfect guy. What would he look like, what would he do?”
“Hmm.” She takes a sip of champagne. “This is so good,” she says and I reach for the bottle to refill her glass. “Okay, well, I guess he’d be tall. I like tall guys.”
“I’m tall.”
“I know that. Anyway, I’d want him to be athletic. I would like for my kids to be sporty, and they’re definitely not going to get that trait from me.” Another sip of champagne. “Sunbathing on a beach is about as athletic as it gets for me.”
“You went skiing.”
“I slid down the bunny hill. Big difference.” We both laugh. “I like dark hair on guys too. I’ve never much been into blond.”
“I like dark hair on girls, too,” he says.