He’d asked Chris about plates and silverware while he’d cooked, so he had the table pretty much set when the dinner was finished. He’d held back the plates so he could plate them in true chef fashion. He was trying to impress Chris after all.
“Okay,” he announced, “you can go sit at the table.”
He’d set the bottle of white wine he had opened earlier on the table and he watched as Chris refilled his glass and then sat in one of the two chairs at the small wooden dining table.
Ryan dressed each plate with a twig of rosemary and some parsley and then framed them with a thin line of sauce. He brought them to the table. “You know it just occurred to me I am not even positive you like fish. I just assumed since you own a fish restaurant.”
Chris laughed. “I love fish.”
“Whew, thank God. Okay
