His eyes light up as he smiles at me, taking the hand I offer to help him get out. “Oh, are you being a gentleman now?” he teases.

Placing a hand on his lower back, I guide him toward the restaurant, silently marveling at how natural the gesture feels. “I haven’t been on a date in a very long time,” I admit when I grab the heavy front door and usher him inside in front of me. “But I do remember how they work. I’m not a total jerk.”

That was essentially a joke, but he stops right before we reach the host station and turns to face me, placing his hand on my chest. “I’ve never thought you were a jerk. You’re the best guy I know.”

My mouth goes suddenly dry, and I have no idea how to respond to his sincerity. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to expect a response, because he simply graces me with one more magical smile, then turns to the hostess to give her our names.

She studies her tablet a moment before looking back up at us with an even wider customer service smile. “Yes, Mr. Sanderson and Mr. Reed. We’re so glad you’ve chosen to join us tonight. If you’ll follow me, we’ve reserved one of our most requested tables for you. It has a wonderful view overlooking the river.”

I glance around the restaurant as we weave our way through. There’s a soft lighting that gives the place a nice ambiance, rather than making it look dim. The booths are very high-backed, offering people privacy. And there are a couple of tiny tealights shining on each tabletop. It all creates a romantic atmosphere.

We’re seated in the back beside a large window that does provide a nice view. There’s a deck outside, extending over the water, with string lights woven around the railings. I’m betting they hold small functions out there.

Brenden is smiling at me when I turn back to him. “Not your kind of place, right?” he says, running his finger along the stem of an empty wine glass.

“Maybe not. But I can see the appeal. And I can handle trying new things.”

“It’s not really my kind of place either,” he offers. “But it’s pretty. I imagine it would be nice coming here if...”

“If what?” I ask when he trails off.

He gives me a look that seems almost sad. “Just, you know. If you were with someone you loved or whatever, like for a special occasion.”

“Being on a date with me isn’t a special enough occasion for you?” I tease, reaching for his hand across the table.

He exhales sharply, and I go to pull away, worried I did something wrong. But then he flips his hand and holds on tightly to mine. “It’s enough. This is great. Even if it’s not exactly real.”

Ouch.