Page 153 of The Moment You Know

Chapter 60

The next day at work, Paige found herself looking forward to the evening ahead and as a result had a fairly good day, despite the fact that her boss, Linda, showed up for a few hours.

After arriving home, she quickly fed Sputnik his dinner, then went to get ready. Deciding to take David at his word, she dressed casually, starting with her favorite pair of low-heeled ankle boots and black skinny jeans that made her ass look amazing. She added a scoop-necked, white T-shirt that she left untucked, then looped a charcoal gray scarf decorated with black cats around her neck for a little whimsy, before throwing on a short, distressed, blue denim jacket.

While waiting for David to pick her up, Paige told herself she wasn’t nervous, even though this outing with him felt more like a date than any she’d been on in the past several months. She was also looking forward to it more than the other dates, which was problematic, since it wasn’t a date, and wasn’t going to go anywhere.

David arrived on time, dressed in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a light blue button-down shirt with white stripes, worn under a navy, V-neck sweater. His beard looked freshly trimmed, and his hair was slightly damp and tousled, brushing his shoulders—Paige didn’t know if he’d kept it down on purpose for her, and she couldn’t believe how much she hoped he had.

She also couldn’t believe how much her fingers itched to play with it again, like the night she’d held him on her loveseat, only this time not because she was comforting him.

“You look great,” David told her.

“So do you.”

Paige was shocked by her attraction to him. Seriously, wasn’t it wrong to be this attracted to the man you were no longer married to?

“So, where are we going?” she asked as they walked out to his car.

“You’ll see.”

David opened the car door for her, then drove to Pablo’s, a small, hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant she’d driven by many times but had never eaten at.

It reminded her of the place they’d gone to on their first official date. Her suspicion that David had picked it on purpose was confirmed after they were seated and he asked, “Do you remember that sketchy Mexican place we went to on our first date?”

“I do. God, they had the cheapest Margaritas. Speaking of which … ”

“You read my mind.” He flagged down a waiter and ordered two blended strawberry Margaritas. When the waiter left to get their drinks, they each opened up a menu and began perusing the entrees.

“What is Paige going to have?” David murmured, obviously talking to himself. “This looks good. Oh, and it’s made with poblano peppers … I wonder if those are the hot ones?”

Paige could throw shit, too. “I think David’s going to have … no, not that. What about this? It comes covered in their homemade corn salsa. Perfect,” she said, knowing how much he hated corn when it was in actual ‘corn’ form. Corn on the cob? Hell no. Cornbread? Perfectly fine.

When the waiter returned with their Margaritas—along with complimentary chips and guacamole—they both stared at the drinks, which were served in glasses roughly the size of fishbowls.

“Holy shit,” they said at the same time, before laughing.

They were still smiling as they ordered for one another, and after the waiter disappeared again, David held up his drink.

Paige did the same, having to use both hands.

“To telling the worst day of our lives to fuck off,” he announced, only to partially lower his glass. “Sorry. That might be a little presumptuous of me because the worst day of my life isn’t necessarily the worst day of yours. Given everything you’ve been through, I mean.”

“It is the worst day of my life,” she told him. Then, indicating he should raise his glass again, Paige repeated the toast. “To telling the worst day of our lives to fuck off.”

They clinked glasses and drank.

“Oh, my God,” Paige wheezed, her eyes watering a little. “That’s got some kick.”

“Jesus, you’re not kidding,” David agreed, deciding he’d better drink sparingly, otherwise they’d have to take an Uber to their next destination.

They had barely started to work on the chips and guacamole when their food was brought out. After digging in—David into his steak fajitas (sans corn salsa) and Paige into her chicken chimichanga (sans poblano peppers)—he asked, “So, do you have a wedding anniversary tradition?”

His casual tone seemed a little forced, making her think the question was hard to ask, and that her answer was important to him. “Yes. I pick out a restaurant I think we might’ve gone to if we were still married and have dinner by myself. The first anniversary after the divorce, I went to Giovanni’s and actually ordered the gnocchi with sausage and peppers for you. I think the waitress thought my elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor, but I didn’t care. I took your meal home, but then couldn’t bring myself to eat any of it and ended up throwing it away.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “And I can’t believe I told you all that. Damn this Margarita.”

“I’m glad you did.”

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