21. Izzy
21
IZZY
The doorbell rings downstairs, sending Wonton into a tizzy.
His bark is high-pitched as he darts out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Derrick left a while ago, claiming to have some things to do before our date.
I fasten the clasp on my necklace, give my reflection one last glance, and carefully make my way downstairs. It’s been months since I’ve worn heels, and my traitorous feet seem to have forgotten how to function in them.
With one foot, I gently slide Wonton away from the door, paranoid he might run out when I open it.
When I turn the knob and pull, the sight I’m met with sends a fizzy, warm thrill through me. It’s Derrick. He stands on the doormat, wearing a happy but shy smile and holding a bouquet of flowers .
“Hi.” For a moment, it’s the only word my brain can conjure. Then, somehow, a flood of words comes tumbling out. “Is your key not working?”
He shakes his head. “A real date, remember? That means I pick you up at the door.”
I swear my heart dips, a joyful swoon.
“These are for you.” He shoves the flowers toward me.
I take them, smiling at the thistle and blue hydrangea and some sort of wispy white flower, along with several others. They shouldn’t go together, but somehow, they do. Like us.
“Let me put these in water, then we can go.”
Derrick waits outside the door, and just inside, Wonton whimpers in confusion while I take care of the bouquet.
When I’m finished and have given Wonton a few scratches, I slip outside and into the shadow of his tall, wide frame.
Small and feminine, that’s how I feel around him.
I want to put my hand on his chest, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him. And with anyone else, I probably wouldn’t hesitate. But Derrick makes me nervous. He turns me into a giddy teen girl again, like I’m going on my first date.
With a hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the truck and opens the door. He waits for me to strap the seat belt across my chest before he shuts it.
Once he’s buckled in beside me, he starts the truck and turns the radio down when it comes on blaring.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, backing out of the driveway.
“Starving.”
I haven’t eaten since the grilled cheese we shared earlier and after the insane number of calories we burned, I’m feeling it.
He reaches over and laces his fingers with mine, making my heart jolt with excitement .
Everything between us changed today.
I think we’ve both always known that if we crossed the line, it would be more than sex.
We don’t talk much on the drive to the pier. It’s a beautiful, warm evening. The breeze smells like sun and salt, and the sky is already beginning to turn a warm shade of orange.
I reach for the door handle, but before I can push it open, Derrick squeezes my hand.
“No,” he says, throwing his own door open. He rounds the hood of the truck, walking tall, confident. God, he’s gorgeous.
He offers me a hand to help me out of the truck. I’m grateful for it when my heels wobble on the gravel lot.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a little out of practice.” I pick up one heel-clad foot and wiggle it.
He closes the truck door and locks up before taking my hand and guiding me over to the paved walking path that leads to the pier.
When he angles in close, I swear he gives a small sniff.
“What?” I ask, tugging a piece of hair forward. I inhale deeply, worried that it smells. I don’t know how it could since he’s the one who washed it for me this morning. “Do I smell bad?”
“No.” I swear his cheeks go the faintest shade of pink beneath his scruffy beard. “You smell really good, actually.”
“Oh.” Warmth floods me. “Thank you.”
“You know,” he pulls me to the side suddenly, “we should talk about something before we do this.”
I press a thumb to the lines between his brows, wishing I could erase the concern I see there. “What?”
He inhales sharply, then presses his lips together like he wants to hold whatever’s on his mind inside but knows he needs to spill.
Jaw flexing, he lets go of my hand and runs his fingers through his hair. As he lets the longish, wavy strands fall over his forehead, my stomach rolls with uneasiness. We didn’t come this far for him to get cold feet, did we?
“I want to do this,” he starts, meeting my eye. “But this is a small town. Your sister… my son and daughter… they’re going to know at the speed of light. Are you okay with that? If you want… if you want to keep this… me… a secret, I’ll understand.”
Heart aching, I put my hand on his cheek. It’s warm, and his stubble is rough against my palm. “You’re not a secret to me. But…” I swallow back a wave of trepidation. “Do you want to keep me a secret?”
He wets his lips and slowly shakes his head. “No. I’m scared, Izzy. I really am. But no, I don’t want you to be a secret.”
“Good.” I kiss the corner of his mouth, finding it almost easy to reach in my heels. “Now let’s go. I’m starving.”
With a smile, he takes my hand again. There’s a lightness to his step now, like a weight he’s been carrying is gone. It hurts a little, that he thinks I’d want to keep him as a dirty secret. But it’s hard not to appreciate his thoughtfulness.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell my sister.
Hopefully before someone else does.
We steal glances at each other as we slowly trek the pier. The scent of the salty sea air smells more like home every day.
It’s funny, that I don’t miss LA at all. Sure, I’ve always traveled, vlogging various cities and countries, so I’m used to being away. But I always missed home after a few days. Now, the idea of going back fills me with anxiety .
Derrick leads me to the nicer of the two restaurants on the pier and gives his name to the hostess. It’s strange, because even though it’s a nicer establishment, I’m almost positive Via mentioned that they don’t take reservations.
With a friendly smile, she pulls two menus from the slot on the side of the podium. Then she motions for us to follow her through the full dining room.
This restaurant is a favorite with locals and tourists, but it’s only open during the spring and summer months, so I haven’t been here yet.
The interior is navy and white, with hints of a lighter blue, but the theme isn’t in-your-face nautical. There are no fish or rafts or nets pinned to the walls. It’s subtle, with blue-and-white-striped booths and freshly painted walls.
Behind the bar, the wall is made of glass, and a sliding glass door in the center is open to let the breeze inside. The hostess leads us around the sturdy lacquered bar and straight to a prime table by the water.
“Enjoy your dinner,” she says before leaving us.
“How did you do this?” I survey the beautiful deck. It’s magical, lit up with fairy lights and cast in the glow of the setting sun. The water laps against the posts, the sky a warm orange hue. “I didn’t think they took reservations.”
With a shy smile, he unrolls his silverware and puts the cloth napkin on his lap. “They don’t. It was a favor for me.”
“Ah.” I nod, going for teasing, though my heart is bursting at his thoughtfulness. “Small town life.”
He chuckles. “Sometimes it pays to know people.”
“This is”—I inhale deeply, letting the evening air soothe me—“wow.”
I’ve been to some of the most highly rated restaurants around LA, Manhattan, and London, but nothing compares to this, and it’s all because of the man across from me.
Beneath the table, I pinch the inside of my arm and only barely keep from flinching.
Nope, not dreaming.
When the waitress appears with a breadbasket and a pitcher of water, she fills our glasses and takes our drink order, then disappears, leaving us to look over the menu.
With my elbows on the menu I have open in front of me, I lace my fingers and angle forward. “I think we should talk about what exactly is going on between us. I’m not trying to put you on the spot, but considering how public this is”—I look around—“my sister and your kids are going to be asking questions, and I’d feel better if we talked about how we should answer them.”
Sighing, he scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re right.”
“We’re not keeping this secret, but is this… are we dating? Just having fun? They’re going to want to know.”
I’m already dreading the interrogation my sister is bound to put me through. Though, strangely, I’m equally excited. My sister is several years older than me, and she was with her ex-husband from a young age, so we never gushed over boys together. Now we finally have the opportunity.
“Maybe we just tell them we’re seeing where things go.”
It’s not the declaration of love and utter devotion I’d prefer, but I’ll take what I can get.
I don’t actually want him confessing such things this soon, but a girl can dream.
I dip my chin and give him a genuine smile. “Sounds good to me.”
For now.
It’s for the best, really. He might be older than me, but we’re in similar stages of life at the moment. He needs to figure out whether he’s ready for a relationship after losing his wife and being on his own for so long, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life. If I want to continue vlogging or change direction.
Across the table, Derrick gives me a shy smile. “What’s your favorite color?”
It’s such a silly question when getting to know another person. Even so, I find myself smiling back. “Yellow. What’s yours?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite animal?” I ask him, realizing that I’m actually eager to know these simple details. Random questions like these can really help two people learn about one another.
He presses his lips together. “You’re going to laugh.”
That alone makes me giggle. “Oh, now I’m really intrigued.”
Sighing, he smooths the front of his shirt. “I like squirrels. They’re kind of batty and stupid, but cute at the same time. I’ve named the ones that hangout in the backyard. Sometimes I slip them a snack.”
“Hold on.” I lean forward, flooded with delight. “How did I not know this?”
“I’m usually up before you are. That’s when I sit outside with the squirrels. Harriet is my favorite.”
“What did you name the others?”
“There’s Peep and Tank—he’s the chubby one—and Kissy, and then there’s George.”
“George?” Sitting back, I laugh.
“Yeah, he sits in the tree and throws shit at me.”
Our waitress approaches with the bottle of wine we ordered, so we sit back, giving her space to fill two wineglasses. It isn’t until now that I realize how close we’ve drifted toward the center of the table, as if drawn like magnets with opposing poles. Once she’s filled the glasses, she asks if we’re ready to order, but honestly, we haven’t even looked at the menus, so Derrick asks for a few more minutes.
I peruse the extensive seafood menu, all the while smiling over the idea of Derrick sitting outside with the squirrels each morning. I’ll be setting my alarm tomorrow so I can spy on him.
When our waitress returns, we’re ready, and the second she’s gone, Derrick takes a sip of wine and says, “Your turn. What’s your favorite animal?”
“It changes constantly.” Fiddling with one of my rings, twisting it back and forth, I give the question real thought. “Right now, I’d say whales are my favorite.”
His eyes soften, the brown irises warm like melted chocolate. “I’m going to make sure you see a whale, Izzy.”
“Let’s hope.” I hold up my glass.
“It’s been an unusual year,” he says, scratching at his jaw. “They haven’t been hanging around as much as they normally do.”
“It’s okay,” I say. With a teasing smile, I drag my foot against the inside of his leg beneath the table. “At least now you can fuck me on your boat.”
He chokes—on his own saliva, I’m assuming, since the water and wine are untouched at the moment.
“Izzy,” he gasps, pressing his fist to his chest and sucking in air.
“What?” I bat my eyes innocently. “I think about it every time we’re out there. Have you not thought about it at all?”
He looks away, out at the water. The sunset is a beautiful mix of pinks and oranges. “More times than I’d care to admit. ”
“Good,” I say simply, sitting back and feeling rather smug now that I know he’s felt just as tortured as I have these past few months.
Our dinner is delicious, and when we’re finished, Derrick leads me out of the restaurant and back to the truck.
On the way home, he turns into the gas station.
As he parks in front of the store, I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. “Slushies?”
He turns to me, the neon of the station’s sign illuminating him in a blue-green hue. “They are your favorite.”
I follow Derrick inside, feeling severely overdressed as my heels click-clack on the linoleum. We head straight back to the slushie machine, as usual, and Derrick fills the cups. He’s better at it than I am. He has an uncanny ability to perfectly swirl the mixture, whereas when I do it, it comes out in blobs.
I pop the straw through the hole in the dome-shaped lid and take a sip. “Perfection.” I hum.
Derrick follows me down the candy aisle, where I snag a bag of gummy bears and another of M&M’s, then swipe a pack of Reese’s for him.
The man who’s always behind the counter gives us an amused smile as we approach. I dig in my purse for my wallet, but Derrick has his card out and tapped to the pad before I can pull it out.
Side by side, we take our spoils out to the truck, Derrick making sure to get the door for me.
Instead of going straight home, he drives around Parkerville while we sip our slushies.
As nice as the restaurant was, this is my favorite part of our date—fingers tangled, a cool breeze, quiet country music floating on the air, and the sights of this beautiful town .
By the time we get back to the house, I’ve learned even more about Derrick.
Like how he broke his left arm playing baseball with his friends when he was in high school. How, when he was a kid, he dreamed of being a pilot.
I love earning each new piece of him, then hoarding it inside me like a precious treasure.
Derrick walks me to the front door, says a quiet good night, and kisses my cheek. Then he turns his key in the lock, pushes the door open, and saunters back to his truck to wait for me to go inside.
From the doorway, I watch his every move, filled with a mix of affection and humor and tenderness. His desire to make this date feel like a normal one, like I’m not currently living with him, is adorable.
I pick up Wonton and spin him around, pressing kisses to his head. “Wonton,” I gush. “I think I might be falling.”
Falling in lust.
Falling in like.
Falling in love.
Upstairs, I head to the bathroom to wash up for the night. The house is quiet as I change into my pajamas, though it’s possible I missed him.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like making a video. I have no intentions of posting it, but even so, I’m determined to do it. For me.
I set up my camera on the small desk in the corner, unconcerned about my lack of makeup or the messy knot of hair piled on top of my head. I adjust the mic, make sure everything is working, and then I talk.
Gush is more like it.
About Derrick .
About how he makes me feel.
My excitement to see where things might go.
At the end, I say, “If you’re watching this, then that means I marry him. It also means he’s your dad. I love you.” Like I finish all of my videos, I add, “Until then.”
With one hand over the lens, I shut off the camera, unable to wipe the stupidly giddy smile off my face. I might be getting ahead of myself—okay, I definitely am—but never before have I seen a future with a man. Not even the few I’ve dated long term.
With Derrick, I see every dream I’ve ever had.
Coffee in the mornings with the person I love.
Dancing in the kitchen.
Singing in the shower.
Making love slow and hushed, and fucking like we can’t get enough of each other.
Kids and laughter and happiness.
It won’t be so perfect, of course, but it’ll be as close to it as any two people can come.
I climb into bed and lie on my side. Wonton tucks himself into the crook of my legs.
Sometime in the night, a big warm body joins mine and I let out a contented sigh when he tucks me against his chest.