Chapter 19
DELANEY
Dinner? Really, Delaney?
Why on earth did I decide that agreeing was the right move? Oh, right, because the moment I heard Sasha speak to him with that same snotty, know-it-all tone that I did all throughout middle and high school, I wanted nothing more than to rip her away from him again.
I haven’t just been avoiding Darren. I’ve been avoiding Sasha too. At least with Darren, I knew he would have respected the distance I had put between us. Whether out of fear of what would transpire between us or just not wanting to talk and risk a blowout.
But knowing Sasha as well as I do, I had no doubt she’d say or do something that would hurt me deeper to prove a point. She’s always been that way. Marrying Darren and having Abbie only made her worse. The divorce didn’t do a thing to change that.
“Tell me that I have something to do at home, Daisy,” I plead into the phone.
My closest friend hums. “You’re too organized for that. If I had to guess, I’d say . . . you’ve already planned for the entire school year. ”
“I should have said no to this.”
“Maybe. But you didn’t.”
“That’s not helping, you know? Why can’t you just tell me to get back into my PJs and go to bed? Where’s the support?”
I stare at my front door, waiting for the storm in my head to manifest into reality and tear it off the hinges. All I have to do is take three steps forward and open it myself, but I can’t seem to move.
“Because that’s not actually what you want me to say, Della. It’s okay if you want to go out with him.”
“I don’t.”
“Are you sure? Not even just to talk? There have to be things you want to get off your chest. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve had that chance.”
“We talked at Into The Shade,” I mutter.
“Okay, and how was that?”
I groan and wiggle my toes in my wedges to bring some blood back into them. “Are you trying to convince me to go or stay?”
Her laugh is a twinkle in my ear. “That bad, huh?”
“It went exactly the way you’d expect with two people who’ve avoided speaking for eight years. I can’t think about it without cringing.”
“Okay, well, you could always just avoid those tough conversations tonight. What was it that he said you were going to do? Brainstorm fundraising ideas?” She sounds as disbelieving as I’ve felt about it.
“Supposedly.”
“And do you have any ideas?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do. I doubt whatever we come up with tonight will ever see the light of day. It was all a ruse; I just don’t know for what.”
“Come on, Della. Yes, you do. He wanted to take you to dinner. ”
“I don’t trust it. Why would he want to do that all of a sudden? There’s been almost a decade for him to try.”
“You tell me. Clearly, something’s changed. The divorce, maybe?”
“It’s been finalized for years now.”
Daisy takes a few beats to reply. “Maybe something or someone kicked him in the ass, then. Gave him the push he needed to do what he’s been wanting to since the ink dried on the divorce papers.”
I shake my head, flinging that idea right into space before it can implant into my brain. “I’m going to go now.”
“To dinner, right? Not to hide in your bed for the rest of the night?”
“Yes, to dinner. I promise.”
“And you said he wasn’t picking you up?”
“No. I told Bryce to tell him that he could meet me at Rustic Ridge instead.”
Of all the places we could do this tonight, I jumped at the chance for it to be at the diner. I’m not a fan of the people who will no doubt be watching us, but at least it’s public.
“You told . . . Bryce to tell him?” she asks, the words strained like she’s trying not to laugh.
“He doesn’t have my number anymore.” I made sure to change it the first chance I could.
She chokes on a laugh before letting another fly free. “Oh, he’s in for a ride, isn’t he?”
“What? I wasn’t going to offer it to him already!”
“Okay, sweetie. Fair enough. Make him work for those digits.”
“I’m going to hang up now,” I threaten, shuffling in place as my feet begin to ache already.
“Yes, you do that so you’re not late. Especially since you’re walking .”
It’s impossible not to crack a smile at her attitude. “Goodbye, Daisy. ”
“Goodbye!” she sings.
I hang up before she has the chance to add anything else. My purse falls down my arm to
my elbow as I slowly approach the door. It’s now or never—or maybe I should change my shoes. Or my outfit. Actually, maybe I should just stay home after all. Palming my phone, I chew on the inside of my lip and slowly move one foot behind me.
Three gentle knocks on the front door have my phone flying into the air before clunking against the wall and falling to the floor.
I trip over the rug lining the hall and gawk at the door.
My heart pounds in my ears when I smack a hand against the old table I’ve taken to using as a coat rack to catch my balance.
“Holy shit,” I mumble before gulping down a mouthful of air.
Another three knocks come. With wide eyes, I stare at the solid wood door and keep completely still. There would have to be an actual window in the door for someone to see me right now, but that doesn’t help me relax.
Nobody’s knocked on my door in . . . a long time. Months before my grandma passed at least.
“Delaney?”
I double blink. I’ve got to be going crazy. Right? I’ve stood here so long that I’ve started to hallucinate.
“I know you said not to pick you up. But I had a feeling that you still don’t like walking alone once the sun’s begun to set, and I figured you wouldn’t want to drive such a short distance.”
My hold on the table grows heavier, tighter as I use it to support my weight. There’s a jab in my chest, straight through the ribs and piercing deep.
Slowly, I move to the door and unlock the deadbolt. I stall with a hand on the handle, confused and with my mind racing. He shouldn’t be here, but he is.
Maybe it’s against my better judgment to open the door. Still, I do it if only to get an answer to the question flashing behind my eyes.
“You remembered that?”
Darren’s standing right in front of the door. So close I immediately smell his cologne and aftershave on the breeze. He’s dressed up tonight. It’s almost jarring to see him having put so much effort into his appearance after standing witness to the opposite for so many years.
With the well-fitted, dark jeans, a slightly wrinkled, mossy-green long-sleeve, shaved jaw that makes his mustache stand out all the more, and no baseball cap, he looks like my Darren from the past.
I lower my eyes to his throat, unable to keep staring at him right now.
His Adam’s apple bobs when he says, “It’s one of the thousand things that I remember.”
“When did you decide you wanted to grow a real mustache?” I ask, immediately wishing I had stayed silent instead.
What the hell kind of question is that? And right now? There’s no hope for me.
He doesn’t miss a beat with his reply. “I’m not sure. I tried the whole beard thing, and suddenly, I looked like I should have a mug shot on a wanted poster.”
“It was a bit . . . much,” I agree.
“A mustache is cleaner. If I have no facial hair, I look twelve, though. It’s a good compromise.”
I tongue my cheek and raise my eyes. Two deep pools of brown welcome me, strong and steady. “Right.”
“You look beautiful tonight—always. You always do, not just tonight.”
With a pathetic, needy noise trapped in my chest, I keep a straight face. “This isn’t a date.”
“You should be complimented regardless. Date or not.”
“Not by you,” I argue weakly .
“Okay, Elle. Not by me. How about we just go?”
“Delaney,” I correct him. “But yes, let’s go.”
He retreats slightly, opening a small gap for me to slip out and shut the door behind me. I linger with my back to him for a second longer before joining him on the chipped porch stairs.
The way he’s eyeing my feet has me blurting out, “What’s wrong with my shoes?”
“What?”
“My shoes. You’re looking at them funny.”
He steps off the last stair and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans, glancing away. There’s a hint of a smirk on his lips that he’s trying to hide. “Are you sure you don’t want to change them before we leave?”
“Oh, sorry, do I not look like a wedged-heel kind of woman to you?”
His smirk grows to an unabashed level when his eyes roam up my body to snare mine. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m just thinking back to the last time you wore shoes like that.”
Dropping a hand to palm my waist, I lean to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I do.
It was prom, and Darren wound up carrying me from his car to my bedroom at one o’clock in the morning because my feet were throbbing so badly that I couldn’t walk on my own.
It was also the first time he’d been given approval to spend the night with me at my parents’ house while they were away.
He’d been sneaking in through my window before then.
Which, to this day, I’m positive my grandma knew about but never once told my parents.
“I can drive us to where we’re going instead of walking if you’re adamant about wearing the shoes. They look good on you either way,” Darren says, the compliment obvious amongst the nonchalant offer .
“I’m sure I can survive the five-minute walk to the diner.”
“You could. If that’s where we were going.”
“Darren.”
“Delaney,” he drawls.
“This isn’t a date.”
“You keep reminding me of that.”
“Because you need to be reminded.” I start walking, hearing him follow a beat later.
“Rustic Ridge is where teenagers go to meet up or friends get together for Sunday brunch.”
“Don’t try to justify breaking the rules, Darren.”
“I didn’t break any rules.”
A snort escapes me. “You broke two.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“The only one I broke was picking you up. I never said this is a date. That’s all on you.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter.
He shifts closer, the heat from his arm teasing mine. “It can be a date if you want to let the rule go.”
“You’re not winning this battle.”
“It kind of feels like it.”
“Where are we having dinner if it’s not the diner?” I ask, ignoring his last comment.
“You’ll see.”
I come to an abrupt stop. Darren gets a few steps ahead before realizing I’ve stopped moving. There’s an obvious patience in his body language as he slowly turns around and leaves room for me to speak.
“No more surprises. I hate them.”
A muscle twitches above his brow. “When did that start?”
“Around the same time I came home from university.”
The air changes. I shiver at the chill while Darren slams his mouth shut and nods, something dark passing through the eyes now avoiding me .
“I thought you’d be interested in seeing what the drive-in grounds look like now. Considering we’re going to be talking about another fundraiser idea tonight, it felt fitting. The walk is short, but I doubt it will feel like it when you’re in uncomfortable shoes,” he says.
“Oh.”
A large hand runs over the top of his head before rubbing at his nape. “I should have gotten your number from Bryce and given you a warning earlier.”
I knew I shouldn’t have worn these shoes. It was pointless to put them on. I’ll never admit it, but I did solely so I’d feel extra good about myself in Darren’s presence. I’ve spent so long doubting myself that I guess I wanted an extra bump of confidence. Look what it got me.
“We can just drive,” he offers, focused on me again.
“Fine. But don’t get any ideas. You’re only driving me so I don’t have to change my shoes.”
He tips his chin. “Of course. That’s it.”
“Fine,” I repeat.
“I’m parked behind us.”
“Right. The fancy car.”
He chuckles under his breath, and we start back the way we came.