Nas is going all out today. It’s not just that he’s dressed in a black suit that looks like it should be being modeled on a runway in Paris instead of dining at Longhorn Steakhouse in Dover. It’s that he pulled up to my job this evening in his Mercedes while dressed in this stunning suit. He drove his car up to the sidewalk exiting the building just as I was walking out, and stepped out with a smile that nearly made me wet, and he did it in front of everybody. Juliana and Shay strode out of DNJ just as he planted a soft kiss on my lips and escorted me to the passenger seat like a chauffeur, and I climbed in with a wide, proudful grin. The looks on their faces were less enthused than I hoped they would be, but at this point I’m not surprised. Things between us have gotten very quiet, and they looked at Nas like he was some controlling boyfriend who wasn’t worthy of trust—as if he’d already hurt me and they couldn't stand the sight of him. While I understand their concern for me as a friend, it’s that same friendship that demands they be happy for me, too. Their expressions almost stole my joy in the moment, but I smiled my way past it as Nas sauntered around the car and climbed into the seat next to me. We drove away hand in hand and came right here to my favorite restaurant, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t stopped beaming since.

Once we’re seated, our server takes our appetizer order and leaves us alone to wait for our food. Nas looks across the table at me like he hasn’t seen me in years, and his whole vibe seems different tonight. There’s an aura around him that makes him brighter, like life has given him a gift he’s so proud of he can’t help but smile, even if no one else knows what it is. His eyes drop down to my clothes, which aren’t anything fancy, but he looks at me like I’m wearing an elegant gown tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me, his gaze meeting mine and locking in, making my cheeks redden.

“Please. I’m just wearing my work clothes,” I say with a teenage giddiness. “Gray pants and a blue blouse are hardly beautiful.”

Nas slowly shakes his head. “What makes you think it’s the clothes that make you beautiful? It’s you who makes the clothes look good.”

I smile as I fight back the urge to climb underneath the table and unfasten his pants.

“Thank you,” I reply before changing the subject to something that doesn’t make my skin brighten. “So, what made you decide to come here? I’m glad you did, by the way. I love this place.”