"If you're busy, I can eat alone."
"Not busy." Finn Wilson opened the car door for Viola Harris. "Tonight is very important, I can't be absent."
"Hmm?" Viola Harris was puzzled.
Finn Wilson smiled but didn't explain.
Half an hour later, Finn Wilson took Viola Harris to an open-air restaurant with a brilliantly lit view of the Capital City in the distance. The night was perfect, the breeze pleasant, and they were surrounded by couples. Each table was adorned with a large bouquet of fiery red roses—a great place for a date.
After they ordered, Finn Wilson requested a bottle of red wine. When the waiter brought the wine, he poured Viola Harris a glass first.
Ding—
They clinked glasses, and Finn Wilson said, "Cheers to us getting back together, thank you for giving me another chance."
Viola Harris was not used to him saying such sentimental things so earnestly, "Why so mushy? This isn't like you."
"You don't like me this way?"
Viola Harris laughed, "A little not used to it."
