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“Okay, your sexy naked date ended up being for senior citizens and your plan to drive him crazy completely backfired. So why do you sound happy right now?”
“He asked to take me out again. One more date. He said he likes me!” I’m yelling by that last point because I know exactly how significant that is.
“He likes you? He hasn’t been interested in anyone since Maria.”
“I know! And I thought for sure after this disaster he was going to be happy to be able to walk away. But he asked for one more date and said he’s picking me up Friday.”
“This is good!” Millie’s the one yelling into the phone now, her excitement matching my own. “This is really good.”
“I know!” I say. “I’m kind of freaking out, though. Millie, I’m a disaster. What if I somehow ruin this date, too? Because I can already tell how bad it’s going to hurt when he walks away from me.” My voice trails off as despair fills me. Not for the first time I wonder what I’m doing. I’m looking for love, but I’m looking for it with someone who doesn't want anything to do with it.
“Maybe he won’t walk away,” Millie says, “and you are a bit of a disaster, but it hasn’t scared him off. I love the disaster that you are, maybe my brother will too.”
“He won’t. He’s said it before he doesn’t believe in love. What am I even doing, Mil? I’m risking so much here. And I’m terrified because I think it might be too late for me to walk away with my heart intact.” Cecil snuggles into me further, clearly feeling my morose mood and trying to fix it.
“I know, Char. But love is worth the risk. And even if he doesn’t feel the same way, there’s nothing shameful about opening your heart up to someone.”
“I know,” I sigh, wishing I had stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and carton of ice cream before settling on the couch. Now, buried under Cecil’s body weight, I’m stuck without my vices. At least the remote is still in reach. “Let’s just hope for the best.” Disconnecting the call, I turn on my favorite uplifting romantic movie and try to keep my mind off Friday night and what my life is going to look like afterwards.
twenty-one
Emmett
My palms are sweaty as I ring her doorbell. I juggle the flowers and rub my clammy hands on my jeans as I try to calm my nerves. When was the last time I was nervous about a date? I don’t get a chance to remember the answer because less than a minute later, the door opens and she’s there. My breath seems to catch in my throat at the sight of her. She’s beautiful. She always is. But now that I’ve decided to give this thing between us a real shot, it’s like I’m viewing her in an entirely new light.
Her curly hair is down tonight, laying over her shoulders in beautiful waves. I never knew how much I liked long hair until this exact moment. I’m tempted to reach out and run my fingers through it to see if it is as soft as it looks, but I stop myself, just barely. Her beautiful smile lights up her face, transforming her already pretty features into my own personal brand of kryptonite. Dragging my eyes from her hypnotic expression, I take in the rest of her appearance. She’s wearing a simple yellow dress with a square neckline and a skirt that flows to her knees. The color perfectly matches her sunshine personality and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. It’s modest, chaste even. But something about the simple, demure dress on Charley nearly brings me to my knees. Part of me still can’t believe I’m here. Putting myself out there again for a woman who’s so unlike any other woman I’ve ever known. I should be terrified, but I’m feeling anything but terrified right now.
I’m still staring at her when she speaks, breaking my trance. “Are those for me?”
With a jolt, I remember the flowers I brought for her. Jesus. I’m acting like a nervous teen on my first date, not a grown man in my late thirties with plenty of dates under my belt. I can’t shake the feeling that this date is more important than any other I’ve ever been on. And that line of thinking does nothing to calm my nerves. “Yes. These are for you. I never did find out what your favorite flowers were, so I just picked something that made me think of you.” It sounds stupid now that I say it out loud. When did I become so damn sappy? But it’s true. I can’t even name the type of flowers, but the mix of vibrant, happy blooms instantly reminded me of her.
But she doesn’t laugh at me. She smiles wider, if that’s even possible, and grabs the flowers from my hand, lifting them to her face to inhale their fragrant scent. “Thank you. They’re perfect. Let me just put these in some water and we can go.”
I bob my head like an eager schoolboy picking up his prom date. As soon as she slips from sight, I mentally scold myself. I need to calm my nerves and relax, or this entire date is going to be a shitshow. Just because I decided that my feelings for her might be genuine and she might be the elusive ‘One’ I had long since given up on finding, doesn’t mean I need to act like a complete fool and ruin my chance out the gate.
My inner chastisement is broken by her reappearance. She’s now wearing a light pink jacket and brushes her soft hair back from her face as she says, “Okay. I’m ready. Where are we going?” Her eyes light up with the childlike excitement and wonder that I like so much about her. Everything with Charley is an enjoyable experience because she always manages to find the best in any situation.
“Oh, well I thought maybe it might be fun to be a tourist in our hometown tonight. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve taken in the sights myself since I haven’t been back for more than a couple weeks in years.” I’m rambling as I start to worry maybe this isn’t the best date idea after all, but she places her soft, warm hand over mine and shakes her head.
“That sounds perfectly lovely, Emmett. Let’s go.”
She’s right, too. It is perfectly lovely. We travel to all the best local spots. Some places I hadn’t been to since I was a kid. I enjoy seeing her bright, happy face streaked with smears of brown clay that escaped the pottery wheel at Mrs. Hagan’s Pottery Shop. And her squeals of delight at the more obscure stops on our tours. Her favorite stop by far was the Reading Terminal Market. She loved talking the shop owners and trying the artisan cheeses. She soaks up the rich history of the Market. She’s so eager to learn from each vendor I’ve never seen such enthusiasm before. Her smile is contagious and my face aches from the permanent smile that’s etched there. The day is utter perfection. Until it isn’t.
We finish the evening with a late dinner at a local pizzeria. Remembering her comments about the versatility of pizza, I thought she would appreciate the varied menu. She does. We decide on a taco pizza, and I swear my heart skips a beat when her eyes meet mine as the pie is laid between us. Literally stutters in my chest as her beautiful, smiling eyes meet mine from across the table. So, this is it. Love. I’ve known there was something between us from the very first moment. Yes, even as she was vomiting on my shoes. But I assumed it was just lust. Potent lust, yes, but nothing more. How wrong was I? Because now, sitting here across from this woman it’s impossible to deny the visceral reaction she brings out in me. It’s honestly terrifying. Especially after my last experience with love. I could lose this—lose her—as easily and suddenly as I lost Maria. Just the thought nearly brings me to my knees. It’s a risk. Being here. Opening myself up to her. But with her, it feels right.
“You have a little something...” I reach across the table and brush my finger along her bottom lip, swiping off the errant sauce. Her cheeks flush red at my touch and I hold her gaze as I suck the sauce from my fingertip. “All better,” I say, my voice breathless.
Her soft green eyes widen as she watches me. Her plump lips are parted in an ‘o’ but no words come out. Apparently, my touch struck her speechless. I would be amused by that fact if it weren’t for the fact that I was also drowning in the emotions surrounding us. I want to kiss her. And I can tell she wants me to kiss her, too. We’ve kissed before, obviously, but this feels different. More real. As if the entire air around us is charged with the weight of our feelings. Something about this feels inevitable. And for the first time I start to let myself believe maybe this might be worth the risk. Maybe she is worth the risk.
Charley leans closer to me, a silent invitation for the turning point we both know we’ve reached. But as I lean forward to claim my girl, a gush of cold liquid washes over both of us, killing the moment and morphing my desire to anger as I take in the cause of the interruption. Charley took the brunt of the icy liquid, jumping up from her seat as the torso of her sundress becomes saturated. I’m almost distracted by the material molding to her body, but her sharp retort brings my brain back online. “Oh, shit!”
"Oh! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Our poor waitress is still clutching the empty pitcher as she pulls wads of napkins from her apron pocket. Her movements are frantic and most of the napkins are slipping from her fingers to the floor.
I’m laughing as I say, “it’s okay, really. This is kind of becoming a tradition with us.”
Charley’s heated gaze meets mine and then, even covered in sweet and sticky lemonade, she’s laughing too. “Yes, it’s really okay. I’m just going to run and clean myself up really quick.”
“Here, let me help you!” Charley nods and they both make their way to the bathroom.
