The Best of Me(23)

The sky was a deep, velvety purple and the stars were already ablaze. Beyond Dawson’s figure, the creek was a black ribbon and the treetops were beginning to glow silver with the slowly rising moon.

She filled a pan with water, tossed in a little salt, and turned on the burner; from the fridge she retrieved the butter. When the water boiled, she added the pasta and spent the next few minutes searching for the strainer before finally locating it in the back of the cabinet near the stove.

When the pasta was ready, she drained it and put it back into the pan, along with butter, garlic powder, and a dash of salt and pepper. Quickly, she heated up the can of beans, finishing just as Dawson came back in carrying the platter.

“It smells great,” he said, not bothering to hide his surprise.

“Butter and garlic,” she nodded. “Works every time. How are the steaks?”

“One’s medium rare, the other’s medium. I’m good with either, but I wasn’t sure how you wanted yours. I can always put one back on the grill for a few more minutes.”

“Medium is fine,” she agreed.

Dawson set the platter on the table and riffled through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out plates, glasses, and utensils. She caught sight of two wine glasses in the open cupboard and was reminded of what Tuck had said on her last visit.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked.

“Only if you join me.”

She nodded, then opened the cabinet that Tuck had pointed out, revealing two bottles. She picked out the cabernet and opened it while Dawson finished setting the table. After pouring them each a glass, she handed one to him.

“There’s a bottle of steak sauce in the fridge, if you want some,” she said.

Dawson found the sauce while Amanda poured the pasta into one bowl and the beans into another. They arrived at the table at the same time, and as they surveyed the intimate dinner setting, she noticed the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he stood beside her. Breaking the moment, Dawson reached for the bottle of wine on the counter, and she shook her head before sliding into her seat.

Amanda took a sip of wine, the flavor lingering at the back of her throat. After they served themselves, Dawson hesitated, staring at his plate.

“Is it okay?” She frowned.

The sound of her voice brought him back to her. “I was just trying to remember the last time I had a meal like this.”

“Steak?” she asked, slicing into the meat and spearing a first bite.

“Everything.” He shrugged. “On the rig, I eat in the cafeteria with a bunch of guys, and at home it’s just me, and I usually end up doing something simple.”

“What about when you go out? There are lots of great places to eat in New Orleans.”

“I hardly ever get to the city.”

“Even on a date?” she quizzed between bites.

“I don’t really date,” he said.

“Ever?”

He began to cut his steak. “No.”

“Why not?”

He could feel her studying him as she took a sip, waiting. Dawson shifted in his seat.

“It’s better that way,” he answered.

Her fork paused in midair. “It’s not because of me, is it?”

He kept his voice steady. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he said.

“Surely you’re not suggesting…,” she began.

When Dawson said nothing, she tried again. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you—that you haven’t dated anyone since we broke up?”

Again Dawson remained silent, and she put her fork down. She could hear a trace of belligerence creeping into her tone. “You’re saying that I’m the cause of this… this life you’ve chosen to lead?”

“Again, I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re making it sound like I’m the reason you’re alone. That it’s… that it’s somehow my fault. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I didn’t say it to hurt you. I just meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant,” Amanda snapped. “And you know what? I loved you back then as much as you loved me, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t meant to be and it ended. But I didn’t end. And you didn’t end, either.” She put her palms on the table. “Do you really think I want to leave here thinking that you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone? Because of me?”

He stared at her. “I never asked for your pity.”

“Then why would you say something like that?”