Nametag

"Baked Alaska or Bridgewater?" Roman asked me.
I froze for a minute. I loved Baked Alaska, it was built right on the Columbia River and it was a stone's throw from my favorite frozen custard place but Bridgewater was cosy, with a view of both the Columbia river and the Port Edward-Megler bridge overlooking back at Washington.
His brow puckered for a brief moment. "Usually when food is concerned you aren't this... hesitant."
"That's the problem," I sighed in misery. "Baked Alaska serves the best chowder and well... I love the view of the Cannery Hotel from Bridgewater."
I deliberated and he waited.
"Bridgewater," I finally muttered.
He nodded, his eyes straying to the kitchen and he pulled out his phone to make a reservation.
"Request the dinning room seating," I told him before he could disappear in the hallway.
"Jennie is on the phone," Roman called from somewhere in the house.
"What does she want?" I shouted back.
"She wants you to go spend the rest of the weekend with her."
I grimaced. "Tell her I can only spend tonight. I'm coming back tomorrow evening."
"You sure?" Why did it sound like he didn't want me to go?
"Positive," I called back to him.
I scowled my reflection in the mirror. It had been so long since I'd worn the wig that I startled for a second. I laughed at myself.
When Roman came up behind me and his face — magical in its beauty — reflected next to mine in the mirror, I gasped. The contrast between the two of us was... troubling. He was a million times more... more... I sighed. No word in existence done him justice.
He pressed his body further against mine, his eyes glum on my face.
"You're so sad," he mumbled, tortured. "What's bothering you?"
I gulped the lump in my throat. "You're beautiful you know that?" I looked at our reflections again with shame. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
He smiled my favorite smile but it didn't reach his eyes. He stared back at me through the mirror. "I don't know about that."
I sighed. "I should also mention you look nice."
He took a breath. "Nuru?"
"Yes Roman."
He was still staring at me through the mirror and suddenly his eyes were tender. "I'd like to kiss you."
I took a breath as well. "Tonight?" — gulp — "now?"
He twirled me around. "Yes."
I gulped. This fear I was experiencing didn't make sense. He'd kissed me before but tonight he had this sudden glint in his eye.
"I don't know," I whispered my doubt. My heart was thudding, I glanced at him warily.
Roman looked back at me, disappointment reflected in his conflicting shade of blue. "Another night then."
He turned his back on me and began striding with purpose to the door.
"No, Roman, wait!" I screamed after him.
He turned to look at me, his expression hurt.
"I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with."
"Nuru...!" he took my face between his firm hands. "You're the one girl I want to be normal with."
"Is that why you constantly reject my sexual innuendos?"
He kissed me long enough to make the muscles in my stomach squeeze.
He pressed his forehead against mine. "I want you everyday. Every time," he whispered breathlessly. "Even now... but I want to do things right."
I groaned.
"Allow me to be that kind of a man for you," he begged.
I nodded, still heaving. "But after marriage? That's not —" I started to protest but he pressed one lean finger to my lips.
"Let's discuss about it later," he said, his voice higher than usual with excitement. "I have a great night planned. Don't want that to ruin."
I grabbed my purse and led the way to his car.
"You know what would make it more unforgettable?"
He narrowed his eyes on me, already having an idea where I was going with this. "Enlighten me."
"If you deflower me."
He grunted. "That's not funny, Nuru."
He opened the passenger door for me and then close it behind me. I watched him go around the car. The car started with a soft pur.
I pursed my lips. "That's not what I was aiming at."
He rolled his eyes.
I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed.
It was quiet for a long time as Roman buzzed us through the darkening streets.
"What are you thinking?" I mumbled in wonder.
"I was thinking that maybe..." he hesitated for a moment before he continued. "That wig on your head" — he shook his head — "I don't like it. It takes away the best feature about you." His voice was sad.
I sat up straight to look at his face, he was tortured.
A chill shiver rocked me to further intensify the racing in my heart. "It's just for couple of hours."
"I suppose," he whispered with quiet desperation.
The anxiety felt oddly in place, as though the universe was trying to tell me something. It was bizarre. The breeze that came through the window gave me the creeps. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, although I turned around and saw we were the only car on the 1 oh 5.
He found a spot to park in the crowded parking lot after five minutes. There were a few plants on the entrance and the building was industrial-like, it's walls burgundy with rectangular, white framed windows and door. Bridge was written in bold, uppercase letters and water was in lower case and italics.
Roman calmly slung his firm, muscular arm around my slender shoulders and I scowled inwardly for the abrupt change in my breathing.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't pay it no mind," I told him. "It's just doing its normal routine. You know how it gets when you touch me."
He nodded, his eyes hungry but not for the food we were about to eat. I gulped, my muscles tightening. It was going to be a long night.
We were greeted by a hostess at the door. I thought I heard her sigh dreamily when she ran an appreciative glance at Roman. When she looked at me she almost scoffed.
I rolled my eyes. As if I didn't know that he was way out of my league.
"Table for two?"
"Reservation for Mr. Reeves, please," Roman informed the girl.
She blushed. "Oh, right this way sir."
She led us to a table at the back, it had the perfect view. We sat facing the crowd of people who kept throwing gazes Roman’s way. I wasn’t surprised — his flawlessly perfect face demanded everybody’s attention.
The waiter came just then, he stared at Roman in angered surprise and then a minute later his eyes turned bitter.
The waiter had a nametag wedged into his red apron – Albert Livingston.
“Good evening,” he said. His voice was shaking. Whether from anger or nerves, I could never tell. "I'm Albert,your waiter for this evening."
I sighed. “Hello Albert.”
He was quiet, still looking at Roman.
“We’d like to order please,” I said with a frown, trying to snap him out of his trance.
“Err…” Albert blinked. “Yes.”
“I’d like to try the Italian sausage and kale soup," I mumbled dryly. Hating the way he was still looking at Roman. "And um... the mayan salad looks lovely, I'll have it as well, ooh and please get me the Salmon and brie app."