Page 88 of Last First Date

I sighed, and the weight of the return home settled on my shoulders. “Time flies, Waverly. It feels like we just got here, and now we’re counting down to the end.”

We locked eyes, and for a moment, I thought she was going to say something. Instead, she quickly looked away.

The successful product launch had left a lingering buzz in the air. We were both riding an adrenaline high.

“Let’s get dinner,” I suggested. “And celebratory drinks.”

“Dinner sounds perfect. Anything you’re craving?”

She shrugged playfully. “Let’s wing it. Something spontaneous. I trust you. You haven’t failed me yet.”

I chose a Mexican restaurant nearby. It was another one of those hidden gems. It was a family-owned establishment with authentic Mexican food.

We ordered two Coronas and perused the menu.

“Goodness, it smells so good!” she whispered over the top of her menu.

“I’m starving,” I said. “Forgive me now because I’m about to pig out.”

“I don’t know how you manage to stay in such good shape with this temptation all around you.”

“It’s a lot of working out,” I said with a laugh. “And fortunately, good genes.”

We settled for guacamole starters, chicken enchiladas for Waverly, and a hearty carne asada for me.

“This is what St. George needs,” Waverly said, snatching a homemade chip and dragging it through the guacamole. “We have Mexican restaurants, but this is so much better.”

“I completely agree,” I answered, my voice muffled behind a mouthful of guac. “Authentic is always better. You know what would make this better?”

“Is that even possible?”

I loved that she wasn’t holding back. I remembered my mom told me a woman that was comfortable around a man would eat. A woman that was trying to impress someone would pick at her food and pig out when she got home.

I waved the waiter over. “Can we get two strawberry margaritas?” I asked.

There was an ease to Waverly I hadn’t seen before. Her laughter was contagious and had a way of lighting up her eyes that I found captivating. I felt my gaze linger longer than necessary on her face, drawn to her radiant joy. It was then I realized I was falling in love with the woman.

I didn’t know what love was, but it had to be this.

Our margaritas were delivered. “Holy shit.” Waverly giggled. “I could take a bath in this glass.”

“This is how a margarita should be served.”

When our food was delivered in record time, we quickly dug in as the sight of it made our mouths water. The combination of succulent chicken with a rich, complex mole sauce was a delight for Waverly, while my thinly sliced marinated beef was grilled to perfection. I happened to notice something red and looked to find a poster advertising a Valentine’s Day special.

I always hated Valentine’s Day. I thought it was a holiday for idiots, to be honest. The pressure to express love on a specific day felt forced and insincere. I never bought into the hype. I was an event planner with a disdain for Valentine’s Day.

Waverly followed my gaze. Her face lit up when she saw the poster.

“Valentine’s Day,” she said, smiling. “I love Valentine’s Day. It’s silly, I know. I’ve never actually had a Valentine, but I love the idea of love. I love seeing the ladies get roses delivered at work.”

She didn’t sound silly. At least not to me. She sounded genuine and excited, and for the first time in my life, I thought that maybe this holiday wasn’t so idiotic after all. If it made Waverly this happy, then perhaps there was something to it.

“You know, it’s not a real holiday,” I said.

She looked at me, her lips curled in a playful smile. “Bite your tongue, Knox. Just you wait and see.”

As we enjoyed our dinner and drinks, I couldn’t help but contemplate the idea of making her Valentine’s special. Was that too forward? Perhaps. But I found myself not caring about that.