Farrah has been distant this week, so I decide to take her out to dinner on Friday night. I pick her up in my Mercedes, and my jaw drops when she walks out the door.

She never ceases to take my breath away. Her dark hair is gathered in loose curls at the nape of her neck, and her big brown eyes look incredible against the royal blue of her dress. She’s wearing shimmery earrings I gave her for her birthday a few weeks ago.

Farrah smiles as I open the car door for her.

“What a gentleman,” she quips.

“That’s me.”

I close the door behind her and jog around to the driver’s side. When I start driving, I slide my hand over her thigh and give it a squeeze. My cock throbs. Anytime I’m near her, it’s like my body is on high alert.

“You look beautiful,” I say. She smiles at me, and I think I see a hint of sadness in her eyes. My chest stings and we’re quiet for the rest of the drive.

When we get to the restaurant, we’re shown to a private table near the back of the room. There are two candles on the table, and a heavy white tablecloth. Farrah smiles.

“This place is beautiful. Thank you for taking me here.”

“I wanted to,” I smile. “I feel like you haven’t been yourself this week.”

She looks away from me and I see that sadness in her eyes again. We order drinks—wine for me, water for her—and the sadness in her face passes.

“You never told me why you don’t drink,” I say. I want to ask her why she’s so distant, but I don’t want to push her. I just want to be close to her.

Farrah sighs. “Well, my father was an alcoholic. Growing up in that environment was… chaotic. I guess when I got older I just decided that it wasn’t worth it. I went to college and people were partying and having a good time but all I could see was my father, and the pain in my mother’s eyes.”

“Wow, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Farrah smiles and takes my hand. “It had nothing to do with you. I think in a way it was a blessing in disguise. Without drinking, I’ve been able to really progress in my career a lot faster than a lot of my peers. So, it turned out to be a good thing in that way.”

“Still, it couldn’t have been easy. Did your mom… are your parents still together?”

Farrah nods. I watch her swallow, and she gets a far-away look in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says simply.

I try to think of a way to change the subject, and the waiter reappears to take our orders. When he leaves, I’m still scratching for something to say. Before I can speak, Farrah continues.

“I used to think she was so weak, and then I started acting like her. You know, attaching myself to men who were no good for me.” She grins as her eyes flash. “I think that whole breakup with Elijah was a good thing as well. It gave me the time to focus on what I want and what I need.”

“And what’s that?”

“A fulfilling job. Friends. A partner who respects me.” She shakes her head, laughing bitterly. “It sounds so silly to say it out loud. Those things are so basic.”

“It’s easy to lose sight of them, though. Especially when someone is holding you back.” I reach across the table and grab her hand again.

She looks at me again, and this time her eyes are sharp. “Sorry for talking about Elijah. I know that you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it. I just hate that look in your eye when you mention him. I could kill him for how much he hurt you.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Please don’t. I’d way rather just forgive and forget.” A shadow passes over her face, then, and I wonder what she’s thinking. She’s had this expression on her face all week.

Is she worried that with Elijah being my brother, she’ll never be able to move on?

My chest squeezes.

“Since we’re here, opening up about our pasts, why don’t you tell me about that scar on your chest?” Farrah’s eyebrow arches. “You always skirt the question.”

I grin. “You noticed that, did you?”

“It’s hard not to. You distract me with kisses whenever I mentioned it.”

I laugh. “You’re onto me.”

“You’ll need to be a lot better at hiding from me,” she grins. The sadness in her eyes is replaced with a flash, and I laugh.

I shake my head, and squeeze her hand. “I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and I take a deep breath. I guess I’ll have to tell her about that day eventually, so I might as well tell her now.

“Well, I told you it was an accident when we were kids, and that’s mostly true,” I start.

“Go on,” she says with a smile. “You have my attention.”

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get any words out, a commotion breaks out beside us. The man at the table next to ours starts banging on the table. His wine glass falls over, soaking the white tablecloth with red liquid. His date is screaming something, but I can’t make out the words.

The man is at least six feet tall, with a big protruding belly. His thick, meaty hand comes down on the table again. He’s opening his mouth and closing it again, and his face is going red.

Things are happening in slow motion. No one is moving. I’m not sure what’s going on, until Farrah jumps up. She moves behind the man, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him around the middle. I stand up, but I feel like I’m in the way. I don’t know what to do.

They heave, and I finally understand. He’s choking. Farrah squeezes him again, and he leans over the table. With one more squeeze, something comes loose and he coughs up a half-masticated bite of his food. He spits it out, and then collapses in the chair. He grabs a hold of Farrah’s hand, squeezing it as he wheezes.

A waiter brings some water, and Farrah calms him down. When the commotion is over, we go back to our seat and Farrah takes a deep breath. The woman is crying and stroking the man’s face, and I look over at Farrah.

“Are you okay?

“Yeah. That was scary. His windpipe was completely blocked.”

The waiter appears with our food. He refills my wine and turns to Farrah.

“The gentleman has offered to pay for you and your husband’s dinner for what you did.”

“Oh he’s not my—” she glances at me, and then at the man.

“As a thank you,” the man calls over, and then coughs, rubbing his chest.

“That’s not necessary,” Farrah starts, but the man waves to quiet her.

“Please. You saved my life.”

She blushes, shaking her head. But then he comes over and shakes both our hands.

“Thank you,” he says to Farrah. He turns to me. “You’re a lucky man.”

We smile, and nod, and then thank him for dinner. Then, he walks out of the restaurant with his date. I smile at Farrah, raising my eyebrows.

“Looks like you’re the one taking me out for dinner tonight,” I grin.

“I’m just glad he’s okay,” she says, glancing after the man once more. I wait for her to mention the scar on my chest, but she turns to her food and takes a bite. She moans in contentment and smiles at me.

“Thank you for taking me out, Jesse,” she says. “I think I needed it. I was getting stuck in my own head.”

“I think you needed it too. You need to be reminded of how special you are.”

She smiles again, shaking her head.

God, she’s beautiful.

Tiredness lines her face, and I think that the ordeal with the choking man may have had more of an effect on her than we realize. We finish our food and leave the restaurant arm in arm.

Once again, I’m reminded how amazing and beautiful Farrah is. I’m also reminded how vulnerable and hurt she’s been. I glance back at the restaurant and think of everything she’s said to me tonight. I vow to take care of her, to cherish her and treat her exactly as she deserves to be treated.