I gave the card a cursory glance. David Radferd, International Sales Director, Limón Export.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, turning away.
The following night, I had just begun my shift at the Crystal Lounge. As I stood at the bar picking up an order, I carefully organized the drinks on my tray by glass size and volume. When I turned around to head over to a table of guests, I almost bumped right into him.
“Oh, David, hi!” I took a step back, gripping the tray as liquids swayed, the drinks spilling over their rims. In an instant, he reached out, steadying my hands to help save the glasses from falling.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” I said, now holding the tray with both hands. I took another step to the side. “Are you stalking me?”
“No, no,” he declared, shaking his head. Pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, I noticed three men sitting at a table.
“I’m with a few business associates. We stopped by for a drink before dinner.”
“Okay, well, that’s not my section, but I’m sure someone will be right with you.”
“Speaking of dinner, I wanted to remind you that you only have four days left to choose from,” he leaned in slightly, eyes smiling.
I gazed at him for a few seconds, up and down, just as men do to women. I couldn’t deny an attraction to him, but I wasn’t sure it was worth risking my job. I stood there for a moment in thought. Oh, what the heck—it’s only dinner—a girl’s gotta eat.
“I’m off tomorrow night. It’s the only time I’m available.”
“Sounds good. Where shall we meet?”
“Not here,” I stated, “definitely not here. I could be fired if my supervisor found out.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“As long as we meet someplace else, it should be fine.”
“Well, one of the guys is staying at The Amethyst. He mentioned the steakhouse is pretty good. We could meet there, say around seven. Will that work for you, Ms. Valerie? I don’t even know your last name.”
“Seven’s fine, and my last name is Vinnello. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I have drinks to serve.”
“See you tomorrow, Ms. Vinnello. I look forward to getting to know you.” Flashing a smile, he turned and walked back to his table.
Our dinner conversation along with a bottle of wine flowed freely that evening. David told me about his work, his travels to Central America, and about wanting to move there to a small house and live a quiet life in the jungle. He said he had grown tired of living in one place and welcomed a change of scenery.
I shared my longing to live by the ocean again as I wasn't much of a desert person. I had only moved to Las Vegas after running into Cindy, an old coworker from back home. She would tell me these wild, crazy stories and talk about all of the fun she was having since moving to Vegas. She practically begged me to move in with her and rent a house together. I told her I’d give it a year to see if it was the right place for me.
Two years later, however, sweating through multiple days of one hundred and fifteen degrees, I was ready to move somewhere else. I planned to save as much money as I could and move to California. Since I had lived by the Atlantic Ocean for most of my life, I thought it would be nice to see sunsets in the Pacific.
It was coincidental when David shared that he lived just outside of LA as he loved the ocean too. Despite our age difference, we seemed to have a lot in common.
“You should come to LA and visit me sometime,” he said, handing me a spoon and nudging his crème brûlée toward me.
“I'd love to,” I reacted a bit too quickly, the wine obviously talking for me. “It's been so long since I've stuck my toes in the sand and sat by the ocean.” Scooping up a spoonful of the custard, I savored its sweetness as the caramelized sugar melted on my tongue.
“What about next weekend?” he asked. “Monday’s a holiday, and I’ll be home for three days… alone, unless you care to join me.” Reaching for his wine, he took a long sip while staring at me over the rim of his glass.
“I do have a few vacation days saved up. I guess I could find someone to cover my shifts.”
Did I just say yes? Where are these words coming from? Note to self: Do not drink half a bottle of wine among strangers.
“Great, I can’t wait.” He beamed, his eyes lighting up as if he had hit the jackpot.
The waiter came over and politely asked if we needed anything else.
“I’d like a cup of black coffee, please,” I requested. I needed it to stave off the effects of too much wine and sugar.
“Make that two,” David added, “with a side of cream.”
When the waiter turned away, David rested his arms on the table, palms up.
“Give me your hands,” he instructed, wiggling his fingers.
I glanced to my left and then to my right, checking to see if anyone was watching us.
“Why?”
“Just do as I say,” he pleaded, his gaze lingering.
Unwillingly, I stretched out my arms, placing my hands next to his. He slowly curled his fingers around mine, massaging the sides of my palms with his thumbs.
“Now, this may sound a bit strange, but I feel as if we've met before.”
“But… we… haven’t,” I said, drawing out each word and lowering my head.
“It’s as if I've known you in another lifetime… as if we were destined to meet again.”
At that point, it had sounded like the wine was talking for him too.
“Really?” I half giggled. “I bet you say that to all the women you meet.”
“I'm serious. I feel
