All this time, I worried about hurting Delilah, but now I wonder if I’m the one who will be left stripped bare and empty. I shrug the worry aside. We said we’d try. That’s all anyone can do.

Delilah takes me to a small taco stand down the coast, tucked between the highway and the sea. The rocky inlet has enough room for the cars, a parking lot, and another cottage-size restaurant that’s closed for business.

The taco stand, however, has a long line. No one looks at us as we wait, huddled in our hoodies against the wind that’s blowing over the sand. The rich scent of grilled meats and frying vegetables has my stomach grumbling.

“See?” I say, looking down at my stomach. “He’s just as noisy.”

“Ass,” she mutters.

“That’s Mr. Asshat,” I remind her with a nudge of my elbow.

Delilah smirks and then rests her shoulder against mine. I’m inordinately pleased.

At the stand, I let her order, insisting that since she knows the menu, she can pick what’s best. Taking our beers, I secure a seat at one of the picnic tables set under multicolored string lights.

Delilah returns with two boxes and sits at my side. The selection is simple: a pork, a fish, and a beef for each of us. It’s how they’re made that makes me groan.

“Damn,” I say around my bite. “That’s good.”

“So good.” She licks a drop of aioli at the corner of her lip as juices run along her fingers and drip into the box.

We eat in relative silence, enjoying the food and our beers. Around us, families, couples, and groups of singles chatter and laugh. Contentment steals over me. I don’t have a lot of experience with happiness. But I soak it in.

“You see that place over there,” Delilah says, breaking our easy silence.

“The blue shack of a restaurant?” I squint at the faded sign. “An old crab house?”

“Yeah.” She wipes her fingers with a napkin. “Apparently, they weren’t any good, and you can’t expect to stay open serving crap. Especially next to this place.”

Delilah stares at the old place, her expression thoughtful like maybe she’s seeing it in a way I can’t. Tension visibly creeps along her shoulders when she turns back to me. “I’ve been thinking about opening a restaurant there.”

Carefully I set down my beer. This place is ten minutes from my house. She’ll be near me. I want that. Fiercely. I want her happiness more. “Would it be a good idea to open next to such a popular place?”