“What was that?”
Our appetizers arrived.
Richard asked about my garden, but his gaze kept returning to the glass.
I tried to recapture the easy man from our messages.
He hadn’t heard a word.
His gaze kept returning to the glass.
Then he set down his fork.
“Marilyn, would you mind standing?”
“Standing?”
“Just for a moment. I’d love to see how tall you look in those heels.”
“Marilyn, would you mind standing?”
I glanced at the surrounding tables. “Right here?”
“Please.”
There was no admiration in his voice now.
The word came too quickly, as if we were running late.
“Right here?”
Still, refusing felt like turning a peculiar request into a scene.
I pushed back my chair.
