“Do you have plans?” he asked.
I draped my arms over his shoulders and pulled him close. “I do now.”
CARL DIDN’T TAKE ME TO THE RESTAURANT my mother had suggested, thankfully. We went to a fancy chef’s table place in Music Row, where the entire dining room consisted of long tables arranged in a square around the open kitchen. Diners sat on the outside, watching the show as the two chefs prepared the different courses and plated them to look like art.
The food was amazing, but the company at my side was even better. Carl wore a charcoal gray suit without a tie, and a white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. He looked every bit the part of confident, rich doctor during the drive over in his BMW, his expensive wristwatch gleaming in the early evening sun.