I feel sorry for her having to deliver the bad news to all these well-to-do people who I know aren’t going to take it well, but I’m just as puzzled as Aaron is about what’s going on. Did a piece of equipment in the restaurant break down or something?

I can’t think of anything else that would make the management decide to close the whole restaurant abruptly like this—it’s going to cost them thousands of dollars in lost business—so it must have been something along those lines.

Although I’d never say it out loud, I’m secretly relieved that we won’t have to endure a full dinner together.

Aaron sits chugging his wine and stewing while we wait for the waitress to bring the check, but I don’t touch my glass. I wasn’t planning on drinking much of it anyway, so I feel a little guilty that he’s going to be on the hook for paying for an expensive bottle we aren’t even going to finish, but I didn’t ask him to do this.

“Aren’t you going to drink yours?” he asks as he finishes his.

“No. Do you want it?” I push it across the table to him, and although he scoffs, he lifts the glass and starts sipping from it anyway.

“I can’t put it back in the bottle, so I might as well.”

The waitress comes back with the check and cork and thanks us both profusely again before Aaron forces his credit card on her. She runs it quickly and brings it back with the receipt to sign. To his credit, he actually tips her generously and tucks the bottle under his arm to push away from the table.

I follow him and head to the door where all the other disgruntled patrons are shuffling outside, but there’s still no indication of anything being wrong.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Aaron asks hopefully when we’re outside.

My stomach tightens with guilt. Part of me feels bad because the night got cut so short, and that I should take him up on the offer. But another, much louder part of me is grateful that I have an excuse to duck out on a dinner I never should’ve agreed to in the first place.

“I appreciate the offer, but I should probably call it a night. I’ve got studying I should probably do,” I tell him, and although his expression falls with disappointment, he nods.

“Alright, I get it. I don’t want to stand in the way of you and that degree. We can’t be a power couple without it,” he says, smirking, and opens his arms for a hug. I give him a quick one and then step back quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

“Good night. Drive home safe,” I tell him when we part.