Something came up at one of my job sites.
Make sure you eat something.
There’s lunch in the fridge.
Love, Dumbass xx
Love. Such a basic word to use at the end of a note or a letter, and yet it’s so out of place. It stands out like a sore thumb, and I don’t know what to do about it. All I know is that it leaves my chest in disarray and I don’t appreciate it.
I peek under the plate and find four pancakes, some cherries and some maple syrup on the side. My stomach flips in happiness, but my chest tightens with consternation. Why is he doing all of this? Why is he acting like this when no one is around to witness his actions. They can’t possibly be for my benefit, not when I’m his nemesis, and he is mine.
And yet when I’d read the note, a small smile begged to tug at my lips when I read that he’d signed it with “Dumbass.” I felt relief when I realized that I didn’t need to cook anything for myself. I feel taken care of for the first time in I don’t know how long.
My phone buzzes on the island and I lean over to check it.
Dumbass
I need to take you out on a date ASAP.
I frown down at the message for what feels like minutes.
Elaborate?
Dumbass
I live in Eaglewood now, Cherry.
The gossip capital of Lake Carlow.
People are starting to ask me why I never bring my girlfriend around them. Nigel even cornered me last week to ask if we had one of those friends-with-benefits situations.
He asked you last week and you’re only asking me on a date now?
Dumbass
Yes, because now my mother is getting involved.
Oh boy. Wanda getting involved means more of the town getting involved.
Okay, so then why don’t we just go to the Locke and be seen having a few drinks?
I’ll need them if I’m going to have to pretend I like spending time with you.
I heat up my pancakes and by the time they’re done, there’s a reply.
Dumbass
You’re hilarious.
Correct.
I eat my pancakes while ignoring my phone even as it buzzes beside me. I feel this urge to start an argument; to bring us back to normality, because right now too much is changing between us and it’s bringing us closer to how I felt back when he drove me home all those months ago.
I spend the rest of my day locked in a state of constant unrest. My mind whirs, my heart thrums and my thighs clench at each memory in which Finn is close to me. By the end of the day, I have reluctantly messaged him back and agreed that we need to go on a date this weekend. My first weekend off in forever and I need to spend it with Finley Southwick.
Tell me again what’s wrong with going to the Locke?
Dumbass
