Timothy
I had chosen a restaurant that we could walk to, so that Penelope wouldn’t be intimidated by my vehicle and driver. Besides, it was a lovely evening. A pleasant walk would suit us for getting to know each other. Plus, I’d have an excuse to put my arm around her or at least to hold her hand.
The restaurant had been recommended by several people I knew, and, according to Andrew wasn’t easy to get seating on a busy night, but I knew that Andrew would get us in. That was his specialty, one could say. Andrew had not only made the reservation but had demanded a pleasant corner for us that was out of public viewing and in a romantic stop.
Andrew usually took care of such things for me, although he was not my servant. He and I had been together a long time, which made him almost more like a brother. But he still liked to make me feel that I needed him. I suppose I did. Who else could understand what we’d been through?
Of course, I didn’t get off easy for such finesse. I had to endure a bit of ribbing about my “lady love.” Andrew insisted that I would find her boring during our dinner. He predicted that we would split up before the week was up. I kept a smile on my face throughout his lecture and warnings, but Andrew could tell that I wasn’t enjoying his haranguing.
I suppose that I should mention that Andrew had once been burned very badly by love. His marriage didn’t last. And so, ever after that, he’d become bitter and distrustful. He also didn’t seem to believe that my family genes could inform me instantly Penelope was the one. I found his disbelief strange because he knew a lot of things about me, secrets that no one else knew. To doubt the gifts of my heritage seemed difficult for me to understand.
But I quickly brushed his misgivings away and returned to the moment at hand. Penelope was mine for the night. My lovely Penelope, my future bride.