Chapter 20

Tuesday morning, Rachel was awakened by a ping from her phone. She rubbed her eyes, blinked, and opened the message.

“Have to dash. Slight change of plans for tonite. Pick u up 6.30, wear something for going out. ❤️”

“Pick me up?” Rachel murmured, frowning slightly. “But we were going to have takeaways here...”

The little heart emoji softened her uncertainty, though not completely. She scolded herself as she set the phone aside. “Get a grip, girl. It’s not a cancellation — he’s planned something. Something special. Don’t go reading shadows where there’s only light.”

Even so, she caught herself glancing at the clock all morning, her thoughts tugged away from her lesson plans and into the swirl of anticipation.

That evening, she sat before her wardrobe like a schoolgirl before her first dance. Every dress seemed wrong — too plain, too fussy, too tired. At last, she laughed at herself and reached for the same dress she’d worn on their first date at Tutta Bene. “If it worked then,” she told the mirror, “it’ll work tonight.”

By the time the hands of the clock crept to six-thirty, Rachel was near breathless. Then she heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel outside. Relief surged. “Whew,” she whispered, wheeling herself to the door.

Matt’s knock was soft, but his embrace when she opened the door was not. He swept her into his arms, holding her tightly, whispering into her hair: “You look beautiful. Just like that first night.”

Rachel’s heart steadied at once. “Good choice,” she thought with a private smile.

...

“So where are we going?” she asked as Matt settled her into the car.

Matt only grinned. “A surprise. All will be revealed very soon.”

He would say no more, and Rachel’s mind spun with possibilities. But when they turned away from the city centre, she grew puzzled. And when Matt finally swung into his own driveway, her brows furrowed.

“What on earth—?” she began.

Then she noticed the van parked outside, painted boldly with the words: “Casa Bene – Fine Dining In Your Own Home.”

Rachel’s mouth fell open.

Matt chuckled at her expression. “Welcome,” he said, “to the newest restaurant in town.”

The front door opened, and a tuxedo-clad maître d’ bowed them inside. Rachel gasped. This was not the lounge she remembered. It had been transformed: soft lamps and candlelight cast warm pools across the room; a linen-draped table gleamed with polished silverware; and at its heart stood an elegant spray of red roses.

Rachel’s hands flew to her mouth. “Matt ... this ... this is incredible. Not in a hundred years would I have expected anything like this.”

Matt kissed her forehead. “It’s only the beginning.”

The maître d’ pulled out her chair as though she were royalty. A young waitress presented menus written in flowing script: course after course of exquisite dishes. Wines were poured, soft music floated from the corner, and each plate that arrived was more delicate than the last.

Rachel quickly forgot her self-consciousness, letting the experience enfold her. She laughed easily, leaned across the table to tease Matt, and more than once simply sat in silence, watching him with shining eyes.

“Matt,” she whispered at one point, “this is beyond anything I imagined. I would have been happy with takeaways. But this...” She shook her head, overcome.

“It’s because I love you,” he said simply.