Mandy
I ease into the booth and smile toward Malcolm's welcoming expression.
“Hello, gorgeous."
Despite any qualms I may have been having, my smile grows as his greeting fills me with a welcomed feeling of warmth. “I'm sorry this is a late dinner. I wanted to wait until…my son was in bed."
Malcolm shakes his head. “Not a problem. I ordered you a glass of moscato. I hope you don't mind."
There's a tug in my chest, remembering how Jackson used to do that—order things for me. Though I have friends who would be offended by a man ordering for them, I'm not one. On the contrary, I'm pleased that Malcolm remembers the type of wine that I like. It's sweet—the wine and him. “I don't mind. Thank you."
Malcolm reaches across the table and opens his hand, palm up.
Slowly I lift mine and place
