Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [62]
After closing the sliding glass door, Garrett saw what she had done. It was dark in the kitchen except for the small flames pointing upward, and the glow made Theresa look beautiful. Her dark hair looked mysterious in the candlelight, and her eyes seemed to capture the moving flames. Unable to speak for a long moment, all Garrett could do was stare at her, and it was in that moment that he knew exactly what he’d been trying to deny to himself all along.
“I thought these would be a nice touch,” she said quietly.
“I think you’re right.”
They continued to watch each other from across the room, both frozen for a moment by the shadow of distant possibilities. Then Theresa glanced away.
“I couldn’t find a wine opener,” she said, grasping for something to say.
“I’ll get it,” he said quickly. “I don’t use it very often, so it’s probably buried in one of the drawers.”
He carried the plate of steaks to the table, then went to the drawer. After sorting through the utensils toward the back, he found the opener and brought it to the table. In a couple of easy moves, he opened the bottle and poured just the right amount into each glass. Then, sitting down, he used the tongs to put the steaks on each of their plates.
“It’s the moment of truth,” she said right before taking her first bite. Garrett smiled as he watched her try it. Theresa was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had been right all along.
“Garrett, this is delicious,” she said earnestly.
“Thank you.”
The candles burned lower as the evening wore on, and Garrett twice told her how glad he was that she had come this evening. Both times Theresa felt something tingle in the back of her neck and had to take another sip of wine just to make the feeling go away.
Outside, the ocean slowly rose toward high tide, driven by a crescent moon that had seemingly come from nowhere.
After dinner, Garrett suggested another walk along the beach. “It’s really beautiful at night,” he said. When she agreed, he picked up the plates and silverware from the table and put them in the sink.
They left the kitchen and walked outside, Garrett closing the door behind him. The night was mild. They stepped off the deck, making their way over a small sand dune and onto the beach itself.
When they reached the water’s edge, they repeated their actions of earlier that day, slipping off their shoes and leaving them on the beach, since no one else was around. They walked slowly, close to each other. Surprising her, Garrett reached for her hand. Feeling his warmth, Theresa wondered for just a moment what it would be like to have him touch her body, lingering over her skin. The thought made something inside her tighten, and when she glanced over at him, she wondered if he knew what she’d been thinking.
They continued strolling, both of them taking in the evening. “I haven’t had a night like this in a long time,” Garrett said finally, his voice sounding almost like a remembrance.
“Neither have I,” she said.
The sand was cool beneath their feet. “Garrett, do you remember when you first asked me to go sailing?” Theresa asked.
“Yes.”
“Why did you ask me to go with you?”
He looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you looked almost like you regretted it the moment you said it.”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure that regret is the word I’d use. I think I was surprised that I asked, but I didn’t regret it.”
She smiled. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You have to remember that I haven’t asked anyone out in over three years.