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Scott sits on top of the picnic table, kicking at the bench with his heel. He’s loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Next to him, Lydia sits on his suit jacket, so the wooden table won’t pick at her green dress. Her hair is piled on her head in a cascade of red curls, and her dress shimmers in the moonlight with every breath she takes.
Scott still can’t believe she agreed to go on a date with him.
“I’m sorry we missed our reservation,” he says.
Lydia smiles. “It was a vet emergency. I understand.”
“I know, but…” Scott sighs and looks up at the sky, at the nearly full moon and the stars he can just barely see sparkling at the farthest edges of its light. “I wanted tonight to be special. You deserve something special.”
She rests her hand over his and squeezes it gently. “This is special.”
Scott snorts. “Sandwiches in the park? Not really.”
“I don’t know.” Lydia tilts her head up to the sky. “The view’s pretty spectacular.”
She practically glows in the light of the moon, utterly radiant, and Scott feels himself falling all over again. Once upon a time, he would have thought her utterly untouchable like this, but after everything they’ve been through together, she’s just…Lydia. Scott isn’t sure if that makes her more or less intimidating. Maybe both.
He turns his hand over so they’re palm to palm, and links his fingers through hers. “You know, there’s a place on Broad Street that’s open until midnight. They have great milkshakes.” He rubs his thumb along hers. “Want to go grab a couple and take them out to the Preserve? There’s a place out there that has the best view in Beacon Hills.”
Lydia looks back down from the stars and drops her gaze to their hands. “What if I just wanted to sit here with you for a little while longer?”
“I, uh,” Scott clears his throat. “I’m okay with that.”
Lydia scoots closer to him, and pulls their joined hands so his arm is around her shoulder, and she’s tucked up next to him. Scott closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of her shampoo and lotion, adding just a hint of sweetness to the smell of Lydia herself.
“There,” Lydia says. “That’s better.”
Scott couldn’t agree more.
He rests his cheek on her hair, and they both watch the stars.