The two walked hand in hand through the door’s of the restaurant with Pam rolling her eyes and laughing at Jim’s lame impression of Bob Vance. 

“Not even close there Jim, seriously that’s your best impression of Bob Vance?” Pam asked.

“Vance Refrigeration,” he smiled.

The evening seemed to be going smoothly until they reached the hostess podium.  Jim heard a voice over the low hum of the restaurant.  He knew that sound too well, that no one wants to hear after five o’clock, the voice that sounded at times like nails scraping down a chalkboard.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jim sighed heavily, shaking his head.  “Maybe traffic was a better option.”P

am looked at him quizzically; she had no idea what he was mumbling about.  “Everything okay?  What’s the matter?”

“Jimboree,” Michael shouted scurrying up to the front of the dining room towards them.  “Woah and Pam!  Pam?  Seriously, why can’t you look like this at the office?  You look smoking hot in that little dress.”

“Hey Michael, we’re just getting dinner…” Jim started to say before Michael jumped in again.

“We’ve got room, come sit with us.  Our last meal out for a while since I declared bankruptcy.  Come join the celebration!”

Pam wrapped her cardigan around her, trying to shield as much from Michael as she possibly could.  “Oh no,” she said under her breath, just loud enough for Jim to hear her.  “Please no.”

“We’ve got reservations already, but thanks.  And we don’t want to intrude on your ‘last supper’ with Jan,” Jim replied.  “You two should enjoy it without us kids crashing the party.”

“No, you and your little lady friend would be adding to the funtivities,” Michael said.

The last thing she expected or wanted to see tonight was Michael Scott.   Jim squeezed her hand.  Pam smiled a bit of a forced grin as Jim carefully maneuvered the conversation with Michael.  

“Seriously, Pam just a little more of that everyday, it would motivate all of us.  But you guys need to come join us!  Jan bought some crazy bottle of Chianti to go with her lamb shanks,” Michael started to explain as the hostess made her way to the front of the restaurant.

“Mitzy, Mitzy, maybe you can help me.  I tried to order fava beans with the wine Jan ordered, but the waiter just got annoyed with me.  Now, if I said that to you, what would you guess?" Mitzy was unimpressed, but Michael kept going. "Jodie Foster, Anthony Hopkins...1991. Come on!  Fava beans, Chianti – Silence of the Lambs!”  Michael quipped.

“Sir, sir please go back to your table, we’ll have someone with you shortly.  Please don’t bother the other customers,” the flustered hostess said frantically, looking as if she had been though a few battles already today other than managing Michael.

“Bother?!  These are my bffs!  My peeps!” Michael exclaimed.  “I helped bring their passionate love affair to fruition.” 

Thankfully at that point Jan called out for Michael, “Michael, your food’s here.  Leave Jim and Pam alone to enjoy their evening, they’re off company time.”  Jan waved at the couple and motioned for Michael to come back.

“Well the little lady is a callin’.  You two have fun,” Michael said, eyeing Pam up and down once again. “Jimmy, you are one lucky guy.  Get it? Lucky?  Cause you’re gonna…”

“Michael,” Jan called out to him again. He scampered back to his table with a gigantic grin plastered across his face.

“Wow, that was Michael unplugged as we haven’t heard in a long time,” Jim said.  “He did make one good point, you do look really amazing tonight.”

Pam blushed, “Thanks.” 

“Sorry about that wait you guys,” the hostess sighed, looking back over towards Jim and Pam.  “Do you have a reservation?”

Jim smirked, “We understand, believe me.  Yes, reservations should be under Halpert.”The hostess snatched some menus and took them through the main dining room through a set of French doors that led out to a small patio set up the side of the building. 

“Not a terrace, but best I could do on short notice,” Jim said, pulling out the chair for Pam. 

Time and time again, Jim never fails to do something that slightly short-circuits her brain a little more.  It’s always something just to make sure she knew he remembered, that he made her feel special, loved.  She felt a flush slowly creep across her cheeks. 

“It’s perfect,” she said softly as he sat down across from her at the small table near the edge of the patio.  Jim took a hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers, rubbing his thumb over her palm in a lazy circle.

“Now,” he started, “After having that type of an entrance to what should have been a nice, quiet and more importantly Michael-free evening, I think a bottle of wine is in order.  At least one bottle, possibly more.  What do you think, maybe start with white?”

Just as the two leaned over a wine list, debating between a pinot grigio and a sauvignon blanc, a waiter came over, juggling a few different things in his hands.  "Complements of the gentleman and his lady inside,” the server said, bringing over an ice chiller with two bottles peeking out of it.  “He said it was his declaration gift to the red hot lovers.” 

Pam had to bite her lip to keep from laughing hysterically.  “You can laugh, it’s okay,” she told the young man.

“Jim, is that…?”she asked, peering towards the bucket at the side of the table, looking at the slight tinge of a pink peering through the ice. 

“Nothing but the best from Michael,” he laughed as he slid the bottles out to show Pam.  “Two bottles of Arbor Mist, a strawberry white zinfandel and a passion fruit chardonnay.  Now what do you think chicken carbonarra goes better with?”

Dinner was a delicious combination of great food, interesting wine, easy conversation and more importantly, no more run-ins with Michael.  As their dishes were cleared and the last of the wine finished, Pam looked out over the side of the patio to watch the last of the sunset dip under the horizon. 

“Feel like sharing something chocolate maybe?”  Jim asked sliding the menu between them, nudging her folded hands with the edge of it to catch her attention.

Pam looked back at Jim and nodded with a slight smile as she leaned in to look at the menu.  She managed to make it through the meal unscathed.  At one point, she just wanted to blurt everything out to him, but not over chicken and penne and most certainly not with Michael in the next room.  Pam wanted to get back home, but sharing a piece of chocolate raspberry torte with Jim sounded too good to pass up.

“Well, if you decided to get the chocolate raspberry, I guess I can take a few bites,” she said sarcastically.  “But you’re on your own if you get the truffle laced ice cream with it.  I’ll definitely get a tea though.”

“Duly noted Beesly,” he chuckled.  He placed his order with a smile.  A few bites of chocolate later, the waiters were blowing out the candles set along the edge of the whitewashed patio and started to bring in some of the chairs as the clock was creeping towards nine o’clock.

“Well, looks like that’s the all knowing sign that we need to leave.  You all set?” Jim asked, signing the check and shifting back in his chair.

“Yep, all ready,” Pam agreed, sipping the last of her tea and moving out of her chair.  “It was fantastic night Jim, thank you.  Michael moment included.”

“You’re not getting rid of me this early,” he said wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked out of the restaurant.  “We’ve got another reservation this evening.  Me, you, that comfy corner of your couch and some really bad early 90’s sitcom on TV Land.”

She nodded, leaning closer into him.  "I guess I can deal with having you bum around on my couch and take up space in the living room for the rest of the night.” 

The two made their way through the parking lot to head Pam’s apartment.  Jim slid his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.  The tingle was back at the pit of her stomach and it slowly crept its way up to her face.  It really was a great night.  She stopped for a moment, watching as Jim slipped head of her by a few paces.  The clouds have slid away, the stars are twinkling and the moon is casting enough light to make the parking lot look as if it was sprinkled with shimmer.  It’s ironic almost, another parking lot and another deep breath.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, wondering why she asked that when what she’s about to say isn’t even a question.  It’s a declaration, a feeling. 

“Shoot,” he smiled.

She wondered if he remembered saying it on that other night that felt like it was a lifetime ago, but then she wondered how she remembered it when it seemed so far away.  She was ready for this, anxious to tell him those words, when a voice cut through the hum of the lights. 

“Night Jim! Night Pam!” Michael belted out from across the lot.  Jim waved to him and then the moment slipped away.  Pam let him take him take her arm when he said, “And that is our cue to leave.”