I push open the door to the restaurant and step inside taking in my surroundings. The décor is simple with small square tables strewn across and minimal lighting. The Italian flag is draped in long scallops across the ceiling. Gabe waves out to me and I spot him seated at a table by the corner, with Damien beside him. Damien’s eyes swing in my direction and we stare at each other as I walk forward. It takes all I have not to run to him.

I slow my steps in order to see him better. It’s surprising how same and yet different he looks. He sits straighter, his chin raised at a haughty angle and his gaze is sharper, focused and a lot more intense. A shiver goes down my spine as his eyes sweep up my body, leisurely taking in every inch, starting from my feet and skimming up my legs, my hips, my waist, across my chest and then over my lips where he pauses for a second until he locks on my eyes. I struggle to breathe after that intense examination. I want him to like what he sees because no matter when I tell him that we are married, nothing will be the same if he’s not attracted to me.

I chin up and return his appraisal, running my eyes over him. He’s wearing the same suit from earlier in the day, though the jacket is now off, his top button open, the tie hanging loosely down his neck. His short hair is messy, as if he’s run his hands several times through it and his jaw is covered with an evening shadow of stubble reminding me of my Damien and his bearded look. My eyes meet his and a corner of his lips goes up, acknowledging my interest in him.

Both the men stand up to greet me as I reach them.

“Aaliya, there you are!” Gabe comes closer and pecks my cheek lightly.

I turn to Damien. “Hello, again!”

A smirk ghosts across his lips as he once again appraises me, this time in reverse, from top to toe. “Hello, again!”

We stare at one another for a few seconds before Gabe announces, “Let’s all get seated.”

Gabe pulls a chair for me and I sit across Damien with Gabe by my side on the small square table.

“What will you drink, Aaliya?” Damien asks after we are all settled in our places. “Wine, red?”

I blink because that is my preferred drink.

I nod.

“Not too dry I assume?”

Again, I’m taken aback. “Absolutely.”

Damien orders my wine while my mind churns with all the questions plaguing me. Does he remember what I drink or is this just a coincidence?  He’s known me for five years, he knows my tastes, my likes and dislikes more than anyone else. I exchange a nervous glance with Gabe, who gives me a reassuring nod.