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Quickly, he pulls me through the restaurant and past an openmouthed, confused hostess.
I almost offer an explanation over my shoulder as we near the exit door, but what in the hell would I say? Uh, sorry to leave dinner early, but we need to go to Petco even though neither of us has pets? So, yeah, I keep that crazy info to myself and simply follow Garrett’s determined lead out the door.
I run behind him as he breaks into a jog down the sidewalk. It’s all I can do to keep up with his long legs, even at almost five and a half feet tall—a respectable height for a woman.
The locks bleep on a Suburban that’s obviously his, and he helps me into the passenger seat with warm hands on my hips.
I don’t say anything—I can’t. I’m completely drugged out on the adrenaline of the wildest date I’ve ever been on. And I know that says something about me—that a spontaneous trip to Petco is a wild time—but it’s honestly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
It isn’t until he shuts the door behind me, rounds the hood, and climbs in beside me that I realize a very important detail.
“Wait. What about my car? I drove here.”
He laughs as he turns on the engine, and I’m not sure if it’s because he also forgot, or if he thinks I’m silly.
“I’ll bring you back to it, I promise.”
I nod then, not wanting to delay the fun any longer, and he pulls away from the curb and out into traffic.
We pass my car on the street as we leave the block, and I give it one last glance of uncertainty.
I’m having fun, but a small part of me still feels all discombobulated. I’m just not used to it.
Which is…a little sad.
Listen to yourself, Lauren. You are literally nervous because you’re not used to having fun.
I think it’s about time I live a little.
Just let go, I coach myself. Do what feels right.
Not thinking for the first time tonight, I reach over and grab Garrett’s hand. He doesn’t balk at all, lacing his fingers together with mine.
They’re big—stretching the space between my own impressively—and unbelievably warm. It feels so good.
“So, you said you have a daughter. Is she your only child?”
He shakes his head, glancing over at me in the moonlight to try to get a read on me as he drives. I kind of like that he has to split his focus, though. It makes it a little bit easier to ask the real questions.
“No. She’s a twin. Fraternal. I also have a twelve-year-old son, Hayden.”
“Wow. Twins. Was that totally wild when they were babies?”
He smiles. “It was honestly so much fun. They fed off each other. The vibe, the playtime. I think Bethanny—my ex—was a little overwhelmed, which I can understand, but I had the time of my life.”
“And how are they now?”
“A handful,” he says with a genuine laugh. “Especially my daughter.”
Big, flapping wings scrape at the lining of my stomach as I try to get my butterflies under control. The way he talks about his kids makes him even more attractive, but I am also terrified. I mean, at my age, any guy I consider dating could be a single dad. It’s not like I’m fresh out of college at this point. But still, the idea of coming into a life that’s already halfway in progress—I guess I don’t know for sure how good at it I’d be.
“In what way? Is she wild?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. She’s mature well beyond her years. Beyond my years. Beyond your grandma’s years. She’s too smart for any of our own good.”
“Oh,” I say with a laugh, feeling like his daughter sounds like the kind of person I’d want to know. “I like that.”
He nods. “Me too. She’s seriously the best. Except when she’s busting my balls about wearing a button-down shirt.”
I laugh.
“And what about Hayden? What’s he like?”
“Her opposite. Easygoing. Easily amused. And really into poop jokes.”
I nearly snort. “Poop jokes?”
“Lots of them.”
“That’s fantastic. I’m always looking for ways to make small talk around the office.”
“With poop jokes.”
“It’s a doctors’ office. What can I say?”
“So…you’d want to meet my kids?”
I swallow hard, not having realized just how ahead of myself I’m getting. “I… Wow, I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy, talking like meeting them is a given or something. This is our first date.”
“No, no. It’s good. I’m glad you’d be open to it. Really thrilled, actually. But don’t worry. It won’t be, like, tomorrow or anything.”
I heave a huge breath. “Probably a good thing.”
Garrett pulls the Suburban into a parking spot and kills the engine. The big, lighted sign for Petco shines across the parking lot, and I can’t help but laugh again.
“I can’t believe we left one of the most exclusive restaurants in San Diego to come to Petco.”
