David chose a bottle of wine for the table without asking anyone what they wanted.
Normally, I wouldn’t have noticed.
That night, for some reason, I did.
Rachel barely touched her wine.
She also checked David’s face before ordering her entree.
It was quick.
So quick I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.
The waiter asked what she wanted.
Rachel looked down at the menu.
Then she glanced at David.
He gave a small nod.
“I’ll have the salmon,” she said.
I remember thinking it was strange.
Then someone asked me about work, and the moment disappeared.
Dinner continued.
We talked about childhood birthdays and family vacations.
Rachel told a story about the time she had tried to bake me a cake when we were teenagers and forgot to add sugar.
“You ate two pieces anyway,” she reminded me.
“I was being supportive.”
“You said it tasted good.”
