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“Sure. I listen to him along with Jimmy Buffett all summer long.”
“Okay, my turn. Who is your favorite, besides the obvious?”
“I like Indie bands.” I search for a station on Pandora, hoping my song will come up. “Coldplay, Christina Perri, Skylar Gray, especially Snow Patrol.” A Snow Patrol song comes on. Not the one I’m looking for but another good tune.
“Yeah, they’re good,” he nods in agreement.
“They make me relax, like jazz does for you.”
“I’ll need to remember that.” He is so sweet.
We talk for the entire ride discussing everything from favorite movies to things we want to do in life. It took me months to learn this much information about Evan. We speak to each other like we’ve been friends for years. Chase has a witty sense of humor that keeps me laughing. I can see by his reaction that it makes him happy to see me like this.
“Maybe once you figure out where you’re going to work, I can I help you pick out an apartment?” he asks apprehensively.
“Sure, but my budget and yours may be just a bit different,” I giggle.
“I know, I just want to help,” he says over the radio.
After a series of turns that his GPS tells him to make, we arrive in front of my mother’s house. He steps out of the car and walks around to my side to open the door. Always the gentleman. I am awkward as I step out, not being used to a car so low. He grabs my arm to steady me. Once out, I turn to him.
“Thank you for the most incredible weekend,” I say softly.
“If it were up to me, I would give you more,” he whispers. He pulls my hand toward his mouth and plants a gentle kiss under my wrist. “Give me your phone,” he says with a crooked smile. Puzzled, I reach into my back pocket and hand him my iPhone. He takes it and presses some buttons. It’s only then I realize what he’s doing. I never gave him my phone number, and I don’t have his. His phone starts to ring in his pocket. He nods his head and hands me back my phone. “So I can bother you later.”
“Thanks.”
Smiling, he pulls me into his arms. “I want to bother you every day.” He places a tender kiss on my lips. It turns more passionate as our tongues meet and become intertwined. He places his hands on either side of my face, cradling my head. My heart is racing, my breath becoming ragged. Pulling back, he gazes down at me. “At this rate, you’ll never get inside,” he whispers. I so don’t want him to leave. “Can I call you later?” His question is tentative. I nod my head, still trying to catch my breath. “Good,” he breathes. As I get up to the door, he waves and heads back to his car. I watch a bit despondent as he drives away.
I open my front door knowing the inquisition will start in three, two . . .
“Liv, I’m in the kitchen,” comes my mother’s voice. She is, no doubt, going to have a million questions, and I’m exhausted. I just want to lie down and go to sleep. I wander into the kitchen knowing full well there is no avoiding this.
“Hi, Mom,” I greet. I throw the bag holding my dress over a chair, dropping the other bag to the floor.
“How was your date? It must have gone well since you didn’t come home last night.” Her voice is filled with a combination of curiosity and contempt.
“It was good.” I am not about to share the intimate details.
“Are you going to introduce me to him?” she asks affronted.
“Mom, we’re barely dating. I’m taking things slow.” I make my way over to the fridge knowing I’m going to need a drink for this conversation. I find an open bottle of Pinot Grigio.
“Well, that’s good to know. Where did you go? You never got a chance to tell me.”
“Into Manhattan to a club inside the Sherry Netherlands.” I keep my replies simple, not wanting to give anything away. I find a glass in the cabinet and pour.
“Ooh, fancy shmancy,” she mumbles under her breath. “What was the party for? You never said that either.”
“It’s an annual party for his company’s investors.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a real estate lawyer.” I feel proud sharing this. Evan tried college, but decided it wasn’t for him. He got a temporary job doing construction, which turned into a career. My mom wished he’d stuck with school.
“Does he work for a large company?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s his father’s. The Remington Group.”
