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“Oh… thank you.”
When it comes to women, I’m historically not the tongue-tied type. For the most part, I’ve always seen myself as something to catch. Something hard to hold onto and consequently, I have been pursued. Not the pursuer.
With Jude, though, I’m stumbling, trying to find my footing as I learn how to be the pursuer. “So that’s the first thing. Now, the second is…” I swallow. “I thought we could go have a picnic at the beach.”
She peeks into the backseat, a big grin on her face. “You did this yourself?”
“Well, I had – I’m not much of a cook, but you know, my chef, Nicole is so –”
“Nicole packed us a picnic?! Oh, then I’m sold.”
“Great! Great.” I open the passenger door for her. “After you.”
Jude gets in, tossing her curls to the side and smiling up at me as she sinks into the seat. “Thank you.”
The way she says thank you slides down my spine and grips my pelvis in a vise.Relax…
How can I relax when I have been on edge since the moment I woke up this morning? My inner monologue has got to be kidding with that one.
Once I’m settled into the driver’s seat, I start the car, the engine trembling under us.
“Nice convertible. Is it new?”
“New to me. Vintage.”
“Ah. An addition to your collection.”
I put the car into gear and pull into the road. “Yes, although, it’s quickly become my favorite.”
“And why is that?”
I eye her. “Because you’re in it.
Jude grabs a rose from the bouquet and smells it. “I never knew you were such a flatterer, Chase.”
“I’m not. Usually.”
“So what’s changed?”
I clear my throat. “Well, I am getting married. There’s some romance involved in that, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, if there wasn’t a contract involved.”
Right… a contract. This could never be really real…
However, that kiss the other day felt really real.Wasreally real.
Jude sorts through the flowers, sniffing them with her entire being, shoulders lifting to her ears. “Ah, these are so beautiful.”
“I know red roses are a little corny, but –”
“They’re cliché. Not corny. And besides, things are cliché because it works. No shame in that.” She admires them a moment longer. “I’ve actually never been given red roses before.”
Mental note: Give her red roses so often she becomes sick of them.
“How was your appointment?” I ask as the car accelerates. We’re in for a bit of a drive, a little over a half hour, to Tybee Island.
“It was good. It was… a huge relief. So, thank you.”
