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Then I scold myself. It’s definitely too early to be thinking about what-ifs, much less mapping so far into the future. We’ve only just begun some kind of relationship. I don’t even know if I can really call it a relationship. And, I need some time to process his words and really let them sink in.
Rick gathers me into his arms in the kitchen, and presses his lips sweetly to mine. I allow myself to relax in his embrace. For now, this is more than enough, and soon, the disturbing thoughts fall from my mind when takes me upstairs for another night of love.6Rick“Come on,” Kara says, her cornflower eyes sparkling. “It’ll be fun!”
I chuckle in defeat, shaking my head. “I’m not sure if going to a college bar is what I would call ‘fun,’ but I’ll take your word for it.”
Kara laces her fingers through mine. The late afternoon sunlight streams through the passenger side window, illuminating her hair and making her look like an angel. The smile curving her lips though is entirely devilish.
“Well, it’s not a college bar exactly because this place is a full five miles from campus. Barely anyone from school goes there. Bailey and I discovered it by accident one time and now it’s our favorite.”
“And you’re sure Bailey and Christopher are in for the night?” The last thing I want is for my daughter and my best friend to discover Kara and I together. Our relationship is progressing beautifully because we spend nearly every weekend together, and our time is never anything short of blissful. But I’m still not ready to fess up to Bailey and Christopher. Not yet.
On the one hand, of course they’d understand. They’re in a May December relationship themselves, so why would they look unfavorably on our age gap? But again, you never know. I wasn’t exactly a picture of calm when my daughter told me she was dating Christopher, so anything can happen.
“I’m sure they’re in for the night. One-hundred percent,” Kara smiles at me. “Bailey’s favorite reality show is on tonight and she never misses it. And she told me that Christopher is making them a nice dinner, too. They’re definitely not moving off the couch.”
“Alright,” I sigh, giving Kara’s hand a little squeeze, and she pumps a fist into the air in victory.
“Yay! They have the best Manhattans there! I promise you’ll like it, Rick.”
I squeeze her hands. Although Kara doesn’t know, I’d go to the ends of the Earth for her. I love seeing her smile, and doing something like accompanying her to a bar hardly seems so terrible.
When we arrive, the bar is not the dark, dingy dive that I expected. Instead, it’s more like an Irish pub, warmed by wood-paneled walls and several crackling fireplaces. I survey our surroundings as we walk through the door, duly impressed. The main bar is circular, tended by several bartenders, and plenty of cushy seats pepper the space. It’s crowded, but not stuffed to the gills, as I imagine the bars closer to campus must be on a Friday night.
“This is nice, babe,” I say to Kara, who beams at me with an ‘I told you so’ twinkle in her eyes.
“And they have really good fish and chips, too. That is, if you wanted to buy me some.” Kara’s grin turns mischievous, and I give her a gentle swat on the ass in response. She squeaks in mock surprise, and I laugh and kiss her on the cheek to soften the blow.
“Maybe if you’re a good girl,” I whisper in her ear, and she rolls her eyes but flushes pink at the same time.
God, I can’t get over how good she looks tonight. The curves of her lithe body are highlighted by a pair of black skinny jeans and a low-cut tank top, over which she insouciantly wears one of my flannel shirts. Her long golden hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, allowing her glowing skin, high cheekbones, and glossed pout to shine. For the thousandth time, I marvel at how lucky I am to be with such a beautiful woman, inside and out. Kara is absolutely the woman of any man’s dreams--but especially mine.
Three little words pop like a fizzy drink on my tongue, begging to be released. Could tonight be the night I tell Kara that I –
“There’s a table!” Kara crows, and tugs on my hand. I follow her and we snake through the crowd until we’ve arrived at a tiny table next to a fireplace.
“Should I go get us a drink?” I ask.
“Yes please.”
“Two Manhattans?”
Kara grins. She wasn’t a whiskey fan when we met, but I’ve managed to convert her. “Perfect.”
I head to the bar and order our drinks, leaning my forearms on the glossy wood surface. I fiddle with my ring finger, an old habit that hasn’t died despite the lack of a ring there now. How cliched is it, I wonder, to tell your partner that you love them in a bar? Should I say it before any alcohol is imbibed? Should I wait until we’ve gotten home? I have no idea.
