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“Yes, and I’d like to get back to it.”
Then, I hear Logan in the background. “If he’s on a date, sweet cheeks, you gotta hang up! Leave the man alone and let him do something other than work.”
Kayla’s response is a bit muffled, but I manage to hear, “But what if she’s boring like Glenn?” And then, “Logan!”
“Hey, Brent. Sorry to bother you. We’re hanging up and getting out of your house now. We have things to do tonight anyway. Have fun on your date,” he says.
“Thanks.” I hang up before Kayla can wrangle the phone back from him. “Sorry. It’s a hazard to having kids. They’re bound to interrupt you all the time.”
Jamie shrugs. “That’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’m safe from ever having to worry about that.”
I glance over at her. “What do you mean? You don’t want kids one day?” My question sucks all the oxygen from the cab of the truck. I don’t understand the change in the atmosphere, but it’s there and it weighs heavily on my chest.
“No,” Jamie answers simply.
Her answer doesn’t stun me. It’s the certainty that she knows she doesn’t want kids now or in the future. I couldn’t have said one way or another when I was eighteen what I wanted, and then next thing I know, Shannon was pregnant. After that, I still couldn’t tell you if I would’ve liked another one, and again, she got pregnant. But now? Fairly certain two is enough for me.
The difference is my age.
Maybe I’m missing something, or maybe it’s different for women, or it could be different for everyone.
“I mean, children are great, and I’m sure yours are nice,” Jamie says, suddenly explaining herself.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I reassure her, reaching over to take her hand in mine.
“You seem bothered by my answer, though.”
“I’m not. Just surprised you’re so sure. I wasn’t ever sure of anything at your age.”
She glances down at our hands and then out the window. “Oh. Well, some things you just know for sure.”
That is true. “Do you think you’ll keep this look?” I ask, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “I think the fifties really likes you.”
Jamie laughs and glances down at her lap, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her skirt. “Ask me again after I’ve spent all night dressed like this.” She looks over at me with a smile. “You said there was dancing. Are you dancing with me?”
“We didn’t come all this way to skip that part.”
The night is going to be really fun, but I’m most looking forward to the dancing. It’s a socially acceptable act that allows me to hold her close at times, but almost always lets me touch her. I’m certain it’ll keep her smiling and laughing too. What more can I ask for tonight?
While we aren’t watching the movie first, they do have us park in our space at the drive-in theater when we arrive. I worry we’ll be cold as we walk to the tents that are set up off to the side, but the air is warm. There’s quite a few people here as well. It looks like there are a few different activities to do, but my eyes stray to those on the dance floor, dancing to music from the era. There’s even a little stage set-up for dancers to watch two couples dance like they did back then in case you want to follow along.
“Hungry?”
I glance up at Brent, who now wears a hat, and smile while shaking my head. “Let’s dance.”
Thankfully, they’ve set up an actual dance floor out here, or I’d be worried since I’m wearing heels. The current song is upbeat and fast paced. Brent seems to have no trouble taking the lead. I do my best to keep up, but soon forget about it because the fun of dancing with him takes over.
About halfway through one song, it hits me that there’s no one singing.
“There aren’t any words,” I point out the obvious.
Brent laughs. “Any yet, we’re able to continue dancing just fine.”
“I should’ve worn a different skirt. It would’ve flared out all pretty-like, and I could’ve moved a bit more freely.”
Brent shakes his head with a slight smile. The music changes to a slow song and I’m thankful for it. We’ve been dancing to upbeat songs for easily an hour now. I’m actually hot. But right now, I get to wrap my arms around Brent’s neck while he holds me flush against him and we sway to the soft tune. Brent looks at me so intently, I wish I could rest my head on his shoulder or anything else that would break eye contact.
The longer he looks at me, the warmer I
