Date Night

Two weeks later, on a Saturday night, Isabella and Daniel went to the fancy Italian place downtown. They parked the car with valet and headed in.

A waiter took the couple to their seats and pulled out the chair for Isabella before she could do it herself.

Daniel had put on the dark shirt she liked. Isabella wore a tight black off-the-shoulder dress that sat low across her chest and ended high on her thighs. Her hair was down. Long earrings brushed her shoulders. The engagement ring caught the candle every time she reached for her glass. He smiled when the wine arrived.

“I still can’t believe I got a reservation here,” he said. “I called three times.”

“Daniel, I’m very glad you did.” She responded looking at his eyes.

“So how are your classes?”

Isabella sat back a little and let the question be simple.

“Um, better. The first two weeks have been a bit of a mess, but that’s just how freshmen are. Labs are finally running without someone breaking glass every ten minutes.”

Daniel laughed. “That counts as a win in my book.”

“How’s your side?”

“History is history. The freshmen are starting to ask questions and talk, which is natural as they get more comfortable. I had a kid stay after class yesterday just to argue about something. I missed that.” He turned his glass once. “Office hours are busier than last semester. I keep thinking I should bring better coffee in. The department stuff tastes like punishment.”

“It really does.”

They looked down at the menu.

“What do you think of getting?”

“What do you think of the pasta salad, honey?”

Daniel glanced at the page, then back at her.

“That sounds good. I might do the lasagna. We can split if you want.”

“We can.”

The waiter took their order and left. For a moment the table was quiet except for the low music and the clink of other glasses. Daniel reached across and took her hand.

“I’ve missed this,” he said. “Us. Just sitting down without one of us running to campus or grading until midnight.”

Isabella squeezed his fingers. “I know. I missed this too.”

He rubbed his thumb over her ring. “I keep telling myself it evens out after the first month. That we’ll get nights like this back. I just… I don’t want us to become two people who live in the same apartment and talk about work.”

“We’re not,” she said. “We’re here.”

Daniel nodded, but the smile faded a little.

“There’s something else. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up tonight.”

“What?”

He looked down at his glass, then back at her.

“The department cuts. History’s been in meetings all week. Nothing official yet, but people are talking. Funding’s shorter than last year. Someone might not come back.” He let out a breath. “I know I’m not the most senior person there. I’ve been trying not to spiral about it. I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of through campus gossip.”

Isabella kept her hand in his. Her face stayed calm.

“Do you know how they will determine it?”

“I’m not too sure. That’s the part that bothers me. Everyone’s polite and nobody’s saying anything.” He gave a small, tired laugh. “Sorry. This was supposed to be a nice dinner.”

“Oh no, this is important, it’s okay.” She held his hand.

“Well, I heard the department chair gets to decide but ultimately the dean gets a say too. Last time this happened, it was sort of based on the performance and student reviews,” Daniel calmly explained.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I just want to apologize early for the fact that I will probably be kept very busy until it happens. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Isabella looked at him for a second longer than she meant to.

“Nothing is going to come between us.”

Daniel smiled, softer now. “I needed to hear that.”

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “You’re a good professor. Your students like you. That has to count.”

“I hope so. I keep running the same loop in my head. If they look at seniority, I’m exposed. If they look at reviews, maybe I have a chance. If the dean already has a name in mind…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t dump all of this on you over pasta.”

“You can dump it on me. That’s the point of this.”

Their food arrived. Daniel let go of her hand so the plates could land. For a few minutes they ate and the conversation drifted back to safer ground — the lasagna being better than he expected, whether they should get dessert, the leaky faucet he still had not fixed. Isabella nodded in the right places. She kept her voice light.

Under the table her other hand stayed in her lap.

Every time he said the dean, something cold moved through her chest. She did not let it reach her face. She cut her food. She smiled when he made a small joke about faculty meetings. She told him they would get more nights like this after the first month settled.

Daniel reached for her hand again between bites.

“If it gets bad, I’ll tell you. I promise. I just didn’t want you finding out from someone else that history is on the chopping block.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

He watched her for a moment, searching her face the way he always did when he wanted to be sure she was really okay.

“You sure you’re alright? You got quiet.”

Isabella picked up her glass.

“I’m alright. I just hate that you have to worry about this.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled. “Me too. But tonight I still get to sit across from you in that dress, so I’m counting it as a good night.”

She let him have that. She let him keep holding her hand. She let the rest of dinner stay warm and ordinary, even while the word dean sat in the back of her mind and refused to leave.