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“You know, you might be one of the few Americans I know that are this knowledgeable about the craft,” I reply, observing her with a fascination that I’ve come to expect by now.
“Representing my home country. I hope I’ve made my way a little bit closer to the top of the list,” she jokes.
“Not quite first place but close.” I shake my head, “That spot would still be reserved for one of my best friends back in Chicago. But he’s got more than a couple of years on you if that helps you feel better.”
“You don’t know me well enough to know it doesn’t.” She smiles
“It’s not for lack of trying,” I murmur, taking a sip of my glass.
Our eyes lock for a moment, and there is tension in the air.
She bites down on her lower lip and tears her gaze away. “I would hope that I know a thing or two about wine. It’s my bread and butter, after all.”
“I have to say. I’m still fascinated by your career change story.”
“I don’t blame you. It looks like quite a drastic change—going from corporate to independent. Especially to taste wine.” She nods. “I don’t judge you for thinking I’m just a little bit crazy.”
“Not at all. It’s admirable, if anything.” I hold her gaze again before she inevitably looks away, blushing this time.
“Thanks. It’s been quite the ride.” Her tone falters for a moment. “A bumpy one.”
“What was your journey like?” I find myself leaning forward, genuinely curious.
“Well, there were some people around me that didn’t quite understand why I’d want to give up the security of a stable career for something as unpredictable as making a living as an influencer.”
“High risk, high rewards, right?” I wink.
She pauses for a moment. “High risk indeed. My job was what ultimately led my divorce.”
“Oh.” As my chin almost hits the floor, the hurt in her eyes awakens a protective beast inside me. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
She waves her hand in the air. “What’s the math like? One divorce, every thirteen seconds in America? My marriage was just collateral, at that point.”
She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The hurt there shows me she’s hiding how she really feels behind a façade of nonchalance.
Instinctively, I get the urge to make her feel better.
“Hey.” I nudge her. “Maybe second time’s the charm.”
That elicits a laugh out of her. “God forbid. I don’t even want to think about that.”
“You’re in the right place, then,” I joke.
Her divorce is a shock to me. She’s too young and judging by her ambition, I didn’t take her to be the type that marries young. But the last thing I want to do tonight is discuss another guy.
“So, tell me more about you.” We’ve moved closer in the booth now, and our knees are brushing against each other.
As the three-Michelin star course is delicious, the conversation is the highlight of the night.
We get to talking about everything, and it astounds me how easy it is.
Why didn’t I ask her out sooner?
The whole night is just magical, and I’m left in a daze, hoping she feels the same way. This is the best date I’ve had… maybeever.
A small silence settles in between us. Neither of us want to be the one to end the night here.
“I feel like we haven’t even scratched the surface yet,” she admits, an uncharacteristic shyness eclipsing her features. “How about we continue this somewhere else?”