Page 69 of Hannah.
His thumb gently brushes my cheekbone in a tender gesture. “Good thing I had them prepare dinner for us, then. Come with me.” His touch sends a warm shiver down my spine.
He leads me through the cottage to a glass-enclosed terrace that looks like something out of a fairy tale. The outside darkness enhances the glow from the numerous candles placed around the terrace, their flickering light casting a warm and intimate ambiance. Johan pulls out a chair for me at a beautifully set table, the glass walls providing a clear view of the night sky.
My fingers curl around the edge of the tablecloth, overwhelmed by the romantic setting. “Johan...this is amazing. You did all of this? Just for me?”
He appears slightly embarrassed, a rare flush on his cheeks. “Well, I did have a bit of help. But you’re worth it.”
As the server quietly sets down our meal and another presents a bottle of red wine, my heart races with a cocktail of emotions—delight, nervousness, and a deep, burgeoning affection. The waiter expertly uncorks the bottle, showing us the label. “My suggestion for this evening would be this 2018 Chateau Margaux, a great red to pair with the main course,” he announces, pouring a small dose into the first glass. “Who shall try the wine?”
Johan nods to me, gesturing with his hand. I take a deep breath, swirling the wine in my glass before taking a sip. I let the flavors linger on my palate, then smile and nod in approval.
“This is quite good,” I say, handing the glass back to the waiter. “Is this a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot?”
The waiter nods in admiration, clearly impressed. “Excellent palate, madam. It also has a touch of Petit Verdot for added complexity.”
As the server pours the wine for both of us and leaves us alone, Johan looks at me with newfound respect and curiosity. “How did you know what grapes were in it?”
I smile, feeling a warm glow of pride. “My dad taught me a lot about wine. We used to go on trips to vineyards just to taste different wines. He always believed that understanding wine is about appreciating the story behind each bottle.”
Johan leans in, clearly intrigued. “What else did he teach you?”
I take another sip of wine, savoring its depth. “He taught me to pay attention to the nuances—the balance of acidity, the texture of the tannins, the finish that lingers on your palate. This wine, for example, has rich notes of blackberry and plum, with a subtle hint of vanilla and spice, likely from French oak barrels.”
Johan watches me, his amusement now blended with genuine admiration. “That's fantastic. And besides wine?”
I laugh softly, feeling more relaxed, and ponder his question for a moment. “He taught me that life is full of complexities and sometimes the most valuable lessons come from the toughest challenges.”
He nods, his face laced with admiration. “That’s a great lesson.” He then raises his glass in a toast. “To the toughest challenges. May we always come out on top.”
Our glasses clink over the flickering candlelight, signaling the start of a weekend that promises to be unforgettable.
I take a sip, and the crisp red wine rolls over my tongue. As we start eating, I glance down at my plate and am struck by how everything has been so well planned. The dish in front of me is a beautifully presented filet mignon with creamy mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Each bite is a delightful blend of flavors and textures.
I can't help but think about the effort and thought that went into planning this evening. From the exquisite wine to the beautifully prepared meal, Johan has considered every detail to make this moment special.
“So much for seeing where fate takes us,” I tease, trying to hide how much my heart swells with appreciation and a deeper affection for him, realizing just how much he cares. “I bet you have more plans than you’re letting on and that you’re just trying to pretend to be all loose and carefree.”
Johan laughs, the sound sending a thrill through my body. “Guilty. But I promise, no rush. We're going to do whatever you want.”
The look in his eyes is making me squirm in my seat. “Whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want.” Those three little words are loaded with meaning. How can he stand to eat with all this tension building between us?
Clearing my throat, I force myself to take another bite of the filet mignon and mashed potatoes. “Well, we'll see if you can keep that promise.”
Johan picks up his own fork and digs into the meal, his gaze never leaving mine.
After dinner, with the stars winking to life above our heads, Johan lays a coat over my shoulders and then takes my hand, leading me out of the terrace for a walk around the cottage. The night air is cool and crisp, filled with the mingling scents of salt from the sea and the faint fragrance of the rose garden.
We walk in comfortable silence, the gravel crunching softly beneath our feet. As we stroll through the garden, the moonlight guides our path, casting a silvery glow on the blooming roses. Johan's hand is warm and reassuring in mine, and I can feel my heart beat faster with every step.
He leads me up a gentle incline toward the cliffside. When we reach the top, the ocean stretches out before us, a vast expanse of glittering black water. The waves crash rhythmically against the rocks below, their sound a soothing backdrop to the stillness of the night.
“Wow,” I whisper, my eyes wide as I take in the breathtaking view. The moon reflects off the water, creating a shimmering pathway that seems to lead straight to the horizon.
“I come here every time I have a chance. It’s always been one of my favorite places,” Johan says softly, his voice blending with the sound of the waves.
I turn to look up at him. “I can see why.” The moonlight bathes his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and long eyelashes. He looks so handsome and striking that it takes my breath away.