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I need to head home and put this day behind me. Wine. Hot bath. More wine. After I do a little light stalking of Drake and Stella’s social media accounts.
I need to see this baby Ethan for myself.
A few days later, I’m standing at the bottom of Harrison’s front porch steps. The house is not something I could have ever imagined a man like Harrison living in.
It’s huge. And has this quaint Southern charm about it.
Like an old plantation home without the plantation. The porch wraps around the entire house, and there’s two rocking chairs by the front doors. A large bay window is lit up, and I can almost see inside.
I take each step and knock on the green-trimmed wood door.
The door opens as if he’d been waiting for me on the other side.
“Hi,” Harrison says with a big smile, and all the heartbreak I’ve been dealing with the past couple of days moves to the back burner.
“Hi,” I say with a ridiculously large smile too.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside so I can enter the home. “Dinner’s almost ready. Hope you like your filet medium rare.”
“I do.” I smile and step into the house, noticing all the pictures lining the front entrance. “Wow, are these you?” I point to a few of the pictures grouped near each other. There’s one of a boy on a bike, and another picture of the same boy on the baseball field. I stop in front of one picture and stare. “Oh my, is this…” I thumb at the picture of Harrison in high school, a crown atop his head. “Is thistheprom king?”
Harrison laughs lightly and the sound of it makes my insides tingle. “Yes, this is prom.”
“You look very regal,” I say, looking at the girl at his side. “And the date?”
“Claire what’s-her-face. We dated a bit back then.” He shrugs, like he can’t even be bothered to remember her. I bet if I pressed he’d recall the last name just fine, but it’s sweet.
I bow before the king. “Well, your highness, show me the rest of your palace.”
Harrison nods as he holds out his hand, acting like a king. “Follow me, m’lady.” He shows me the front room, complete with a piano in the corner. Then leads me into a living area with a flowered couch and TV. “I grew up in this house,” he says as he leads me upstairs. He stops in front of one room. “This is my childhood bedroom.”
We step inside and it’s like stepping back in time. “Football?” I ask, turning around after spotting a picture of Harrison in a football uniform.
He shrugs. “Just for a few years. It wasn’t my passion.”
“What is your passion?”
He moves closer to the closet and opens it, pulling out an acoustic guitar. “Music.”
My eyes light up at the sight. “You play?” It all makes sense why his coffee shop offers live music. Something I’d never even think about, but Harrison thought of it right away.
He thumbs over the strings. “Yeah, maybe if you’re good, I’ll play you a little something after dinner.” He sets the guitar down onhis bed quickly. “Shit, dinner.” He rushes out of the room, and I laugh.
I take one last look around his childhood room and follow him back downstairs and into the kitchen.
It’s a big space, with dark wood cabinets. I lean against the bar, sliding onto a barstool as Harrison opens the oven door to check on dinner.
“The potatoes look just right,” he says, pulling out a sheet pan with the potatoes.
“They smell good,” I say with a smile. I realize right now this almost feels like a date. I mean, it is a date, right?
I’ve been so in my head about Deja Brew and Drake’s baby that I didn’t really think about this as being a date, and more about me claiming my prize.
Yet now, as Harrison plates our dinner, nerves tackle me. I haven’t been on a date in ages. In fact, I swore to myself I’d never date again, yet here I am.
I take a deep breath. This is not a date. It’s merely two friends enjoying each other’s company. As I watch Harrison move around the kitchen, I realize I do enjoy his company.
Maybe a bit too much.
