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I often wondered—should anything actually happen between me and Dea—how we would ever be able to reconcile our very different families.
Fanciful thinking, but something I pondered from time to time regardless.
"That sucks, Dea," I told her, watching as her gaze got glassy for a moment before she blinked back the tears.
"I planned out every single day. You know how my mom needs to constantly have something on her schedule."
I did. Very unlike Dea who was someone who really enjoyed takeaway on the couch and a good Netflix binge.
She wasn't a complete couch potato, though. She was always walking Lock around the city, going to the dog park. On top of that, she was always known for some charity function or another. A do-gooder through and through, she preferred to have a social life that didn't involve drinking to oblivion, but rather rubbing shoulders with those who had the same big heart as she did.
Since she wasn't exactly rolling in cash—choosing a profession that fulfilled her instead of one that simply brought in as much money as possible—she liked to donate her time and ideas.
We both helped with charity events at the shelter. And went in every week or two to walk the dogs, socialize the cats, help the overworked staff out as well as get our animal fix since neither of us were in a position to get more animals. Her, because her apartment was simply too small. Me, because I had a somewhat hectic work schedule, sharing Lillybean with my brother who was solely responsible for her absurd wardrobe.
Dea was simply one of the best people I had ever met.
The fact that her own damn mother couldn't see that was a criminal. The fact that she would dim some of Dea's light by cancelling on her? Yeah, that was not going to stand.
"I have a question," I offered, watching her gloved hand reach for mine, pulling Lock's leash away from me.
"Okay," she agreed, nodding as we turned down a side road that would help us circle back around toward her area of town.
"Do you still have any interest in all those plans you made? Or do you just want to hang out at home and watch cheesy Hallmark movies?"
"Well, nothing is going to get in the way of me and Hallmark movies. But Netflix has a selection this year too!" she told me, beaming once again. "I mean, I didn't have a lot of enthusiasm about all the plans at first. But then while I was arranging them, I kind of got excited about them all. It really does sound like an epic way to lead up to the holiday. I guess I could... just do them all by myself. It sounds a little depressing, though."
It did.
And she deserved better.
"I have an idea."
"Okay," she agreed, turning toward me as we waited for our light to turn green to cross the street.
"How about we do all those things together?"
"You have work," she reminded me.
And, technically, I did. That said, I worked for my family. My family who was getting sick of me talking about Dea when I adamantly refused to make a move to show her my feelings. My family who would likely give me as much time off as I needed just to shut me up already about it.
I could make it work.
"I can swing it," I told her with a nod.
"I don't want you to have issues at work just to pity tag along with me."
"First, there won't be any issues at work. Second, nothing about this has anything to do with pity. I mean, have we met, Dea?" I asked, waving a hand toward my llama Santa shirt. "I love everything Christmas. I count myself honored that you would let me tag along with you."
"You're sure?" she asked, and there was a hint of insecurity there that I didn't like hearing.
"No. I'm positive."
"Then it's a date. It's twelve dates actually," she said, having them all planned out in a non-traditional span from the 13th through the 25th to coincide with when her mother would be visiting, beaming as she moved up onto her front stoop.
"It's twelve dates," I agreed, smiling back, watching as she turned to walk into her building, as Lock gave Lillybean a lick before following his mom back up.
Twelve dates.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that many.
But over the years, we'd had hundreds of platonic friend dates. More than enough to get to know each other, to realize there was compatibility and affection there.
Now I had twelve dates to show her that we could be infinitely more, that I was more than just her best friend, that I could be her man as well.CHAPTER THREEDeaDay one didn't actually involve going out at all.
I knew that my mother was someone who constantly needed stimulation to be even a vague facsimile of happy, but I figured the day she came in from California would be a bit taxing on her—and, let's face it, me—so staying in was my plan.
