Kissing in the Rain ☔ ✔

☔️ part 7

Be my sweet escape, clean getaway
Deliver me like the desert rain

Be my sixty six through the wilderness
Dashboard lights in the darkness

PAUL BRANDT (feat. JESS MOSKALUKE)- "I'M AN OPEN ROAD"
♪

GRANT'S AUNT'S RED sedan smelled strongly of the vanilla car freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. The soft grey upholstery was engraved with straight-edged marks, most likely left by a vacuum, and the space was completely clutter-less save for the crinkled map book lying on the backseat. I'd just buckled my seatbelt when the engine roared to life, and I watched as Grant's fingers twisted the temperature control knob to maximum strength, a loud whoosh blasting from the air vents as the windshield defogged.

"So, can I ask where we're going for dinner, or is it a surprise?"

"You'll see," Grant promised as he pulled into the street.

A half hour later the bright white lights spelling Antonio's came into view, although I had to infer the s since the ivy trailing over the concrete walls covered most of the final letter. I'd never heard of the restaurant before, but through the lit up dome-shaped windows I could see it was already busy.

I suppressed a laugh at the cliché, collecting my clutch from the cupholder as Grant pulled smoothly into a parking spot. "Italian?"

Grant didn't bother hiding his amusement, laughing at my observation. "It's one of the only decent Italian restaurants in the city," he explained. "I thought I'd show you where to come for some good Italian food."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering how Grant had so quickly discovered a restaurant in the city that he deemed one of the best. He'd been here, what, a couple months? But Grant didn't seem to notice my confusion as he switched off the car and pushed open his door, prompting me to do the same. My healed booties clicked against the cement as I followed Grant to the entrance, being careful not to step on any black ice, which I'd been encountering a lot of lately.

The moment I stepped past Grant, who was very politely holding the door open for me, and into the restaurant, I breathed in the intermingled scents of sautéed tomatoes and fresh seafood, causing my mouth to water. Breathing in deeper, I looked up at Grant, who returned my anticipatory smile with one that sufficiently conveyed 'I told you so.'

"Welcome to Antonio's," someone said in near perfect monotone, causing both Grant and I to turn around, giving the blonde-haired hostess our complete attention. "For two?"

"Yes," Grant confirmed. "We have a reservation."

"Name?"

"Grant Barnett."

I reached up to touch the fray hairs at the end of my braid as I watched the hostess shuffle through sheets in a binder. Other than a slight raise of her eyebrow, she wore nonchalance as she looked up and said, "Follow me please." She sat Grant and I at a cozy table near a window, then handed us our menus, a candle with a flickering flame resting by the edge nearest the window. "Your server will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Grant and I said in unison as she turned around to leave.

Slipping out of my wool coat, I hung it neatly over the chair's backrest and proceeded to push up the sleeves of my heavy-knit blush pink turtleneck before opening the menu. The thick pages were filled with antipasti, primi piatti, secondi piatti, and dolci, and I took my time reading the description of all the items as Grant flipped quickly through his menu. I was so engrossed in the menu that the sound of a low, familiar voice calling Grant's name jarred me. Glancing up, I felt the blood drain from my face when I saw the familiar dirty blonde locks and dark eyes that could only belong to one person.