We settled into our chairs and I nervously watched as his eyes caught a glimpse of the dinnerware. He blinked and then looked up at me. "These aren’t our usual plates," Roman smiled.

"Observant," I chuckled lightly.

"Did... Did you make these?" he asked. When I nodded, he picked his salad up and spun the bowl carefully in his hands to get a better look. I had chosen a blue gaze that reminded me of the water in the Caribbean. Maybe that had been a bit of a cheesy homage to our fake honeymoon, but it was the first color that stood out to me. "Hannah," he breathed, lowering the bowl back to the table. "I think you’ve found you have a natural gift."

"Oh, no need to be too nice," I blushed. "They’re pretty good for a beginner, but they aren’t perfect."

"I would buy those if I saw them in a store," he stated rather firmly.

"Even with how lumpy they are?" I questioned.

He peered down at his plate. "I see no lumps. Unless you mean the potato, which also looks divine." I giggled and tried to wave off the notion. Roman snatched my hand midair and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of it. "Take the compliment, or else I won’t let the conversation move past me telling you how beautiful you are and how talented these hands have turned out to be."

There was a slight purr to his voice when he said it, sending a little thrill up the length of my spine. "Okay, okay. Thank you," I replied once the shiver went away.

As we began cutting into our steaks, Roman smiled over to me. "I guess I don’t even have to ask how your day went. Looks like your pottery teacher knocked it out of the park, as did you with this dinner." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"She’s lovely," I smiled. "Rita is so comfortable. She feels like an aunt, or maybe an older cousin, that I never had. It feels more like hanging out than formal lessons most of the time. Though it’s always very clear when she means business."

"I’m glad your first pick is working out," Roman nodded. "When I was a kid, I took viola lessons and hated each of my teachers. After the third grouchy old woman or man, I swore off it for life."

"I like to think I have better patience than a child," I laughed, sticking my tongue out at him.

He laughed too and raised his hands in defense. "Sorry, sorry. Meant no harm."

"Only teasing," I chuckled. "How was your day?"

"Pretty good," Roman beamed. He shuffled in his seat, but not out of nervousness. Excitement. "If I can be fully honest, I’ve been sitting on some information for a while. You know how stocks can fluctuate and all... I wanted some time for things to level out a little before sharing the news. Ever since all that craziness with the FBI finished, the company has seen a significant increase. Far more than marginal. Like a solid twenty percent. That may not sound like a lot but, it’s phenomenal."

"That’s wonderful, Roman!" I exclaimed. I could feel his excitement in the air, and it was settling in me then too. It felt so energizing to share in one another’s good news. "We most toast this great success," I remarked in my most stately voice as I raised my wine glass. He laughed and creased his brow but said nothing as he raised his own and waited for me to make my little toast. "To success, passion, and a glorious future," I toasted, once more putting on my posh accent.

"Here, here," he laughed as we touched glasses. He eyed me as he swigged some of his wine. "You know, you got a bit of a goofy side to you," he commented. As I blushed, I watched his gaze grow more intense. "I really like it."

"Oh, do you?" I said with a weak smile. "How about you? Do you have a goofy side?"

"Of course," he nodded.

I waited, letting my gaze let him know I was waiting.

"Well now, it’s not very polite to put someone on the spot," he tutted.

"Come on, come on. Give me your best shot," I grinned.

He looked down at his plate for a while before rolling his eyes and wiping his mouth. "Okay, well, did I ever tell you my dad told me I should never date a tennis player?" he questioned.

His tone was so severe, I was taken back for a moment. Was I about to get a breakup story gone wrong? "No..." I replied hesitantly.

He shrugged, and fidgeted with his napkin. "Yeah, he said it’s because love means nothing to them."

For a moment, I just stared at him, and then it clicked. I burst into a short bit of laughter, unable to believe such a joke got me; but his delivery was just too good. "You don’t have a goofy side," I said between laughs. "You’re just a dork."

"A dork and a goof can go together, can’t they?" he asked with a light laugh of his own.

"I think so," I smiled.

"Well, I think it’s time you give me a joke then, goofy," he grinned.

I shook my head defiantly. "No, no. I gave you an accent. That’s just as good as a joke."

"No, it’s not. It’s not the same sort of pressure. If you were to tell me to put on a British accent," he began, "Well then luv, I just fink I might have to switch it up on ya."

His voice sounded way too good in that cockney accent. It reminded me of Tom Hardy, or other actors. Though, just a bit sillier, of course. However, it made us even and I felt obligated to return a joke since I had requested one. My mind went totally blank for a minute before I reeled through the sitcoms I had seen over the years, and the jokes I had read in books.

"Well, you know I sometimes find myself thinking about how vintage things are in fashion, you know? So like, did our parents’ generation wear dresses from the Roaring Twenties and think it hip and different? The beads, the bobs, the suave domino look for guys," I rambled, adding a longing sigh. "And at the same time, I think of teenagers today, finding the styles of our youth and revitalizing them and it just... I don’t know. I can’t imagine blow-up, plastic furniture and sequin closet curtains, low-rise jeans and whale tails..." Just as I noticed a bit of confusion pinch his face, as though he couldn’t remember what had started the conversation or hadn’t a clue where I was going with it. "Nostalgia; it just isn’t what it used to be."

After only a fraction of a second, Roman cracked up. He gave a hearty laughter and shook his head. "And you called me a dork," he remarked. It felt like we were on a first date, and I relished it. As he continued to laugh a bit, he added, "I think I love you or something." I was all smiles, unable to respond as I sat there admiring him and soaking in the moment. "So, what’s this dinner really about?" he asked, his eyes still tender.

"Thinking I love you or something," I echoed with a cheeky expression still on my face. He grinned a grin that couldn’t have been any wider. It was my turn to squirm, but it was excitement mixed with nerves. I knew I needed to be honest and vulnerable. With Roman, it had grown easier and easier by the day to be so, but it didn’t mean it was natural for me as of yet. It didn’t take the painful effort it once had, but it still took a bit of bravery. Even after all we had been through and all the lovely, personal moments we had shared, I was still worried on some level that he would reject me.

It might have been irrational to some, but it was just the anxieties of being in love for the first, and hopefully the last, time.

I straightened my spine and looked at him with all the confidence I could muster. I studied him for a moment, wanting to make sure I was certain of the words I would say next. As I took in his beauty, his relaxed posture to know he was being himself around me, and the adoring look in his eyes, I knew that I would never be more sure of anything in my life. The next words to come from my mouth would be, hopefully, the start of something new. The true start to our forever and whatever that may hold. He told me at the hospital that he wasn’t ready to talk about divorce or anything of the like quite yet, but I wanted more than a postponed talk.

"I was hoping we could talk about our future," I finally said to him, giving him a little smile.