Merlot

Kian, would you like to meet?

I stare at my phone for a moment. How should I answer? Yes, Cloe. I would love to meet you in person. What would you like to do?

She pauses before responding.

Do you like Italian?

We've been chatting for about six months now, long enough that we've both graduated from the initial getting to know you conversations. Cloe loves to cook. I do. Where would you like to go and what time? Unbridled enthusiasm forces a ridiculous grin to form upon my face. So glad we aren't using video.

Is your place okay, say 18:00 tomorrow?

Wh-wh-what! I want to jump off the sofa and dance. Breathe. Be cordial. It's not like we don't know each other. Our first date—in person. I can’t wait.

I'll cook.

Sold—Sounds great!

I'll explain why later. I need to be in bed soon, so can we work out the details?

That's fair. I won't keep you, but will you need anything: ingredients, alcohol, anything?

Just you, K—well, maybe some pots and pans, ha-ha. She pauses again. I'm already excited. One thing though—let's treat it like a first date—a romantic night for the two of us.

Cloe's sentiment takes my breath away. Using my nickname K doesn't hurt her cause either. She's right. We’ve considered this before, many times. However, life has kept us from meeting for one reason or another. We've intended to take this next step—.

Goodnight, K. Sweet dreams.

Sleep well, Cloe. I save the chat and close the application. I then rifle through a nearby drawer for her photograph. We sent them to one another about three months ago once we realized getting together wasn't going to be easy.

Finding it, I pull it out carefully. A selfie Cloe took considerable care with given its composition. Honey-hued locks fall to her chest with one side pinned back with a clip. Just enough to provide her with a mischievous look with part of a sassy smile obscured from view. For me, though, her energetic sage-colored eyes always capture my attention; they match her personality. She's bubbly, impulsive, and possesses a kind heart. We talk at least once a day now.

I place her photo on the table with care and rise from the sofa to fetch a pen and paper. If I don't plan now—I could blow it. I mentally scold myself for such negativity. Cloe won't grade me too harshly; although, being prepared will pay off. I'm sure of it.

***

I scrub the errant droplets of shaving cream from my face with a towel, careful not to dirty my gray t-shirt. I then comb through my medium-length, cinnamon-colored hair. Mom said it all the time—it stuck.

Am I ready? My hands are a little unsteady as I wonder how tonight will go. I push the thought away as I head to the closet. I need to dress first. Besides, I need to focus on what I can control.

I don a pink dress shirt to accompany a pair of beige slacks. It works with my dark complexion. Comfort and aesthetically pleasing. I glance at my watch. Two hours to go.

***

Knock knock.

I rush to the door, knowing I should slow down. My heart demands otherwise. I open the door while my mind churns through potential greetings.

Summer dress, sandals—she's here, right in front of me. "Cloe," I pause, hoping my brain and tongue can connect better. "You look lovely." I gesture for her to enter. "Please, come in."

"Thank you, Kian. You too! That style suits you." If she's nervous, I can’t tell. Cloe enters and peeks behind me while I close the door. "This place is yours? I-I." Her features become bashful. "Sorry, where are my manners." She extends her hand. "So nice to see you in person. We've chatted online for so long; I shouldn't be so nervous, right?"

"I Agree." I shake her hand. "We’re a bit overdue." Don't forget her comment. "This place is one of my family's rentals. I love the view," but it feels empty all by myself. I notice her overstuffed shoulder bag. "Don't worry. Inside, I’m a mess too." I point to her burden. "I'm sure that's heavy. I can take it if you like. Shall we head to the kitchen?"

She sighs with relief. "That would be very kind of you."

I take the item and lead the way. "I‘m looking forward to what you're making tonight." Setting the load on the island, I turn to face her. "I'm still surprised you want to cook for me instead of going out."

Cloe laughs.

The sound graces my ears like a symphony. I’ve heard her laugh before on video chat and phone calls, but hearing it in person is so much better.

She reaches for my hand. "Your eyes remind me of the deep blue sea. I relax when I gaze at them." Her expression, while ardent, puts me at ease. "To be honest, I want to be alone with you—fewer distractions here. Besides, I'm sick of only cooking for myself."

I move towards her. "Cloe, I hope tonight will be a new beginning for us."

"Me too." She gives me a quick yet meaningful hug. "It'll be—Damn!"

I lean back to gauge her reaction. "What's wrong?"

She seems distraught. "I forgot the wine! A crucial ingredient for making Chicken Merlot. That, and I could use some liquid courage."

I place my hand on her shoulder. "Cloe, that I can help with!"

Her eyes widen. "Really? You have a bottle of Merlot?"

I smile in triumph. Good thing Merlot is one of my favorites. "I do, a couple, actually." Her face lights up in an instant. "Glad it works out. Care for some now?"

She pecks my cheek. "Please, and thank you for saving me." There is an unmistakable warmth in her eyes. "You do that a lot. I can be myself when I spend time with you."

"I'll be right back." I walk around the island where the Merlot awaits, Realm The Tempest. After retrieving a couple of glasses, I uncork the bottle. I really like the sound. Then, drinks in hand, I discover Cloe standing next to me. "Here you go."

She smiles. "Thank you. You know, I was going to wait—but I can't anymore." She raises her glass. "A toast," Cloe's eyes sparkle as she takes a quick breath. "To the man who's won my heart."

To think we both had the same idea! I kiss her. "To you, Cloe, the woman I want to be with forevermore. I love you."

Our glasses celebrate with a touch.