The restaurant was most certainly an overkill. He took back calling it a shitty apology. It was a good apology.
And then Sage remembered that Rowan was using his company's credit card, so it turned into a mediocre apology.
Then Sage remembered that Rowan was not his husband, and he most certainly did not have to apologize to Sage at all. He was apologizing because he was a good-natured person. Rowan used a free spot on his business consultant trip to allow Sage to do work as a traveling doctor. It was something that Sage would normally had to have fought for considering the funds that would have to be used, but it was an easy agreement with the hospital once they heard that CCL would be paying for it all.
While Sage helped Rowan avoid embarrassment, Rowan helped Sage take advantage of a work opportunity. Their slate of owing each other was clean. Yet Rowan was still kind to him despite not having to be.
So, Sage concluded that Rowan was apologizing out of the goodness of his heart, and he left it at that.
Rowan allowed Sage to change before they went, too. A doctor's outfit was not fitting for a nice dinner. He changed into something else. A pair of black slacks and a comfortable, sea green designer sweater. It had gold accents like the color of the zipper and the cuffs. Sage pulled his hair back as he normally did, with small pieces above his ears hanging down. He had to admit that after Liwayway had shown him how to apply eyeliner, he liked it. It made him feel a little closer to himself, an identity he was always unsure about but too busy to think too much on.
The restaurant was large and popular. It was no wonder Rowan scheduled a reservation. The place was packed! Waiters were swift in walking around delivering food and providing top-notch customer service; but nonetheless, they still could not keep up. Sage looked around the fancy place in awe, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he glanced over the sea of people. The place smelled heavenly of well-cooked food and soft rolls of freshly baked bread.
It was decorated in colors of black and a deep red. Even the attire there for employees were black slacks and a dark red, sleeveless, button up top. Dark oak trees were artificially crafted to grow and intertwine with the architecture of the building, acting as pillars and archways of the different, various sections of the dining areas. Leaves of a deep green hung too, allowing a nice scent of nature as someone passed by them. Sage wondered how they were maintained and kept breathing.
A hand gently touched his lower back and hooked around his waist, pulling him further into the restaurant. "Our table is ready, doctor," the voice said next to his ear. Sage swallowed and followed.
The table that was reserved was on a quieter side of the restaurant. Sage was a little impressed that Rowan managed to get such a seat so swiftly and a nice one at that. He raised an eyebrow at him, even while Rowan played gentleman and pushed in his chair. Once Rowan sat down and a waiter took their drink orders, Sage had things to say.
"First off, you're playing the husband role far too much," he commented.
"Am I?" Rowan faked a frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched, and he failed. "I think I'm just naturally very loving."
"Gross," Sage deadpanned. At his response, Rowan's frown was no longer fake; it was real. "Secondly, how did you get this reservation?"
Rowan swiftly got over the comment. He smiled, his dimples forming in his cheeks. "Does it matter?" he asked.
"Not really."
"Then let's not waste time on it," Rowan said, pushing the menu closer to Sage. "Figure out what you want to eat."
Rowan ordered a steak with a baked potato on the side, cooked rare with slightly-charred edges, and seasoned with a coating of glazed peppers. His drink was some hard liquor that Sage could recognize as a top shelf bourbon brand. Meanwhile, Sage's appetite was not very into the concept of foods or drinks that tasted like medicine. More sweetened red meats and sides of pasta. He ordered a white and creamy pasta with long and thin noodles and bites of chicken mixed it along with some greens of seasoned, steamed broccoli.
"Really?"
"What?" Sage blinked.
"Not even a soda. Just water?"
Sage looked at his iced water sitting on the table. "What's wrong with water?"
"Not fun," Rowan said, lifting his liquor and taking a small sip.
Sage had the immediate assumption that Rowan's liver hated him.
"I have a question," Rowan suddenly said. He leaned an elbow on the table and rested his cheek in the palm of his hand. "Why'd you agree to this?"
"I don't remember giving you permission to ask a question," Sage stubbornly snapped back.
"Come on, Doctor."
Sage rolled his eyes and sank down in his chair a bit. "I wanted to try being a travel doctor. I was interested in exploring. Isa knew that, so I'm sure she jumped at the chance to throw me out in the world when you told her about your problem. It was just a coincidence."
"You don't seem like the exploring type."
"I'm not usually," Sage answered honestly. "But I've been working in the same hospital for the last seventeen years. I was bound to feel suffocated after that long."
Rowan's eyes widened. "Seventeen?!" He had been in business for quite a while, but they were different. Rowan grew into the work and was eased into it, but becoming a doctor wasn't in Sage's family line. His sister owned a clothing line, his other sister owned a real estate company, and his brother was a freelance photographer who had taken photos for rich events, but Sage was a natural born doctor—a prodigy. All on his own.
"I joined the staff in training during university when I was seventeen. I'm double that now," Sage muttered. Why did he feel embarrassed? They were the same age.
"Have you always worked as much as you do now?"
"I really don't work that much."
Rowan's face turned green as he said, "You really do." in response.
Sage's lower lip curled inward, and he reached for his drink again. The iced water could be felt as the cold traveled down and sent shivers throughout him. As he set the cup back down, he drummed his fingers on the side of the glass. "I always have," he admitted.
Rowan found that Sage was quite honest. He was honest and had a kicking bite to his words. It was fun to interact with him. So, he smiled cutely at Sage and stopped pestering him for the time being.
Meanwhile, Sage found that if Rowan ever showed stupidity, it was an act. Rowan was sent out on a job to personally and singlehandedly offer business consulting to twelve establishments while also being trusted to bring his significant other along for a trip of business and pleasure. Advice that he had offered in the past had saved most companies in their city. He tried to stay humble, but Rowan's job required a talent of knowledge of many categories. As a young mind, he could branch out and offer good advice for accounts, finances, stocking, liability, insurance. He was quite impressive.
"And I thought I was good at my job," Sage muttered, a little bit bitter, and chewed on the straw of his water.
"What? You are," Rowan said. "Listen, I can talk about health insurance, but if someone asked me what to take for a headache, I would say headache relief because that's what the bottle says."
"Most headache relief store brand bottles are just relabeled bottles of Excedrin."
"See, I can't even spell that."
Sage tried to not laugh. His teeth ground into his straw, and he turned his head away slightly. What an idiot. He had never met someone so brilliantly stupid. This man could solve political issues but failed to accurately prescribe an over-the-counter medication. Sage would trust him with his social security number before he trusted him with his appendix.
He had thought the entire trip would be incredibly annoying. Spending time with a stranger. He planned on arriving at the inn, checking in with the hospital, and wiggling his way in to work the entire time if he could. However, Rowan proved to not be too horrible of a guy to be around. While he acted like an idiot, he was nice, and his jokes weren't horrible. A little dumb, but a stupid kind of funny Sage didn't mind. A type that was more endearing than annoying. He figured being friends with Rowan wasn't something he would think he would regret. Of course, that was not the first time he thought that either, and things still turned sour. Sage was conflicted.
The dinner came to an end. Sage stood by the restaurant doors inside. He watched through the glass as Rowan stood outside in the cold, talking to one of the valet drivers as another one was retrieving their vehicle. It was late at night. Stars dotted in the sky. It felt like Sage watched a 3D movie scene through the glass.
Rowan laughed from something the valet man said, a puff of white coming from his lips. Sage stared at that breath that hung in the cold air and disappeared.
A ringing startled him. Sage jumped and slapped gently on his pockets. He had a phone call.
"Hello?" he answered.
"How is it, being Rowan's wedded wife?"
"Very funny," Sage deadpanned. Though he did not read the caller ID, the familiar teasing voice of his younger sister was clear. He was honest and said, "Not horrible."
"Really?! When's the official wedding then?"
"Not horrible because I hardly see him, actually," Sage said. She was already teasing him. There was no way he would tell her that Rowan took him out for dinner. "I work at the local hospital and attend events whenever he asks for me."
"Wife on call. You know, I do the same for Mira. When she needs me, I'm there. Brothers and sisters are alike after all. You two act like a married couple."
"Isa," he hissed through his teeth.
Isabella laughed. "Where is Rowan right now?"
He paused before he said, "Getting the car."
"…How do you expect me to not make a teasing comment about that? You're setting me up to say something."
"Whatever. If you don't have an actual reason for calling, I'm hanging up."
"Just to tease you and check in since you going with him was my idea but mainly to tease you."
With that, Sage ended the call.
"Something wrong?"
Could people stop scaring him!? He jumped again! Sage tossed a cold look over his shoulder where the person stood. Afraid, Rowan took a safe step back.
"Hey. Sorry."
"No, it's," Sage sighed, not meaning to have directed anger at him. He did nothing wrong. It was Isabella's fault. "Isa called me to irritate me. It's not you," he muttered.
"Oh." Rowan did not press any further questions. "Car is up front. Are you ready?" he asked. Sage slid his phone back in his pocket. He nodded. They walked outside, meeting with the cold air. Sage wrapped his arms around himself. His jacket was merely a designer and not meant to be worn to prepare against chilling temperatures. From beside him, Rowan twitched, but he did not comment.