25. Miles
Chapter 25
Miles
I’m surprisingly calm for my first official date with Georgia. Maybe I used up all my nervousness in the years it took me to get here. Or maybe that soul-searing kiss last week burned it out of my system. I’m at ease, ready to take our relationship to a new level.
Georgia, unfortunately, is not calm. Her smiles are a little too forced, her conversation a little too rushed for me to believe she’s as relaxed as I am. I can’t tell if her jitteriness is from an eagerness to make sure everything goes right tonight or from a fear that it won’t.
We’ve already placed our orders at the Thai restaurant she’d opted for last week. Despite everything I said to her then, bringing her to my place seemed like too little effort for something that feels this significant. Now I’m thinking it might have helped us avoid the pressure of a “real” first date.
She gestures at me. “You wore the maroon sweater.”
“I told you I was saving it for a special occasion.”
She smiles even wider but then juts out her lower lip. “You didn’t roll the sleeves, though. ”
Maintaining eye contact with her, I slowly push my sleeves to the elbows. “Better?”
“Yup. That’s the stuff.” She swallows hard, then winces. “Sorry. Is this weird?”
“Which part?” I don’t think any of it is weird, but I need to know what’s bothering her.
“I can’t…you know…think you’re sexy to your face.”
My grin is probably the dopiest it’s ever been. “I give you permission to think I’m sexy.”
“That’s not helping.”
“Will it be better if I tell you that I think you’re sexy?”
She hides her face behind her hands for a second, shaking her head. “That’s it. This date is a bust. We need to start over another time without all the weirdness.”
“Hey.” I lay my hand on the table, palm up, and she slips hers into it without hesitation. “It’s just us. Bringing more into our friendship isn’t supposed to be stressful. We can open the door to possibility and see what happens. Okay?”
“Open the door to possibility.” Her shoulders relax, and the smile returns to her face. “Okay.”
Despite her nerves, she keeps her grip on my hand. That’s good enough for me.
“I’m curious what would have been on the itinerary for our practice date.” Not that the idea was stuck in my head for days or anything.
She laughs. “Rule number one, don’t make fun of her favorite hobby.”
“I had no idea about Mr. Pickles.” A serendipitous mistake.
“Rule number two, don’t set her up with other guys.” She flashes me a loaded glare, even though we both know that worked out for everyone.
I run my thumb over the back of her hand. “Not a problem tonight. ”
She shakes her head at me, but I like her smug smile. I don’t want other men to even look at her tonight. She’s all mine.
“Third…I’ll just watch what you do and point out any issues as they arise.”
“Sounds about right.”
Our dinner arrives, and we serve up our shared rice and noodle dishes.
“You still haven’t heard anything from your dad?” I don’t regret defending Georgia against her father’s slights. Making sure he knows how extraordinary she is came as naturally to me as breathing, and I’ll do it again if I need to.
That doesn’t mean I want the man to hate me.
“Not yet, but that’s pretty normal. He’ll be in touch when it fits into his schedule.”
At least he’s not doing anything to make me feel bad about telling him off.
“Don’t point those big sad eyes at me,” she says. “He’s always been this way. Well. With Sam and me.”
“Georgia. That’s not better.”
His contrasting displays of affection between them has always rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe worse is the way Georgia just takes it because she’s never known anything else. She pretends she doesn’t care, but she can’t tell me she feels nothing when he showers his younger children with tenderness he intentionally withholds from her and Sam.
“I know, but I can’t be sad about his conditional love anymore. And I don’t want you to feel bad for a second about what you said at their house. Nobody’s ever stood up for me like that.”
“Anyone with any sense would stand up for you. I hate that he can’t see the successful woman you are.” He’s got this idea that there’s only one version of success, and anyone who deviates from that is failing by default. It’s not just his children—I suspect he thinks the same of me, Dogeared, and any other Magnolia Ridge business that doesn’t fit his model.
“I can’t do anything about it. And he wouldn’t change even if I quit illustrating to take a job at his company—he’d still find things to criticize.” She shrugs. “He’s not cruel. He’s just a really crappy dad. Selectively.”
“You’re making me want to tell him off again.”
“I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity one day.” She groans and rolls her eyes. “This is so not first date conversation. I’m ruining the vibes.”
“You’re sharing with me. I like those vibes.”
She laughs as though I wouldn’t sit here for hours just to listen to her tell me anything she’s willing to say. Something serious she needs to get off her chest? Something ridiculous and random that popped into her head? I want to know it all.
“It was good to see your mom in the store the other day,” she says.
It’s a rare sight lately. “I was happy to see her out, too. I don’t like how much time she spends alone in her house.”
Georgia puts her hand back in mine. A sweet, soft gesture I’m ready to eat up with a spoon.
“Maybe she’d like to play games at Fiesta Village.”
I stare at her. Then stare a little more. “You’re brilliant. I hadn’t thought to ask her.”
“Why did you keep that secret, by the way? You looked so guilty when I showed up.”
In hindsight, it was silly not to mention it to her immediately. But the fear of being perceived as that “transactional nice guy” kept me from sharing the idea right away.
“I suppose I didn’t want you to feel any pressure. As though I expected something in return for doing something nice for your grandpa and the other residents. ”
“Like… ‘I was nice to your grandpa. Now you should date me?’”
“I never said I’m always rational.”
She squeezes my hand tighter. “I never thought that about you. You’re not that kind of guy. And I like that you’re not always rational.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Really?”
She leans closer. “You’re fun when you’re irrational.”
I laugh, feeling exactly the same way about her.
She takes a big bite but hides her mouth behind her hand while she finishes chewing. “Did I tell you Keith is thinking about taking a transfer to Alaska?”
“That’s a huge change.” Her mom and stepdad live in the Houston suburbs, and he does something for the oil industry. As far as I know, she’s never been back to Magnolia Ridge for a visit. Georgia always goes to see them.
“Mom wants him to take it. She’s barely been out of Texas, and living up there would be a great way to explore. Can you imagine all the mountains and forests and wild animals? The snow?”
She gets a dreamy look on her face as if she’s envisioning snow-capped mountains and frolicking moose.
“Do you think you’d want to join them sometime?” The idea of Georgia being thousands of miles away makes a spot behind my ribs ache. But Sam spent a decade exploring the world. Maybe she wants to do the same.
“I’ll visit for sure, but I don’t think I want to live in Alaska. Magnolia Ridge is my home. Everybody I love is right here.” She cringes, and a hint of pink touches her cheeks.
“Good. Everybody I love is right here, too.”
She smiles but shakes her head again. “Rule number three: don’t imply you love each other on the first date.”
I notice her teasing warning goes both ways. I also notice myself grinning like a fool.
“You’re right. That would be so cringe.”
“Right? Like having an Instagram for your dog.”
I lay my hand over my thrumming heart. “I would never say that. That’s in direct violation of rule number one.”
She starts giggling. “Okay, but I looked it up, and Mr. Pickles is so cute. He’s a chihuahua mix of some kind, and I just want to kiss him on his little snoot.”
“Rule number four: don’t make your date jealous of tiny dogs with huge social media followings.”
“Aww. Do you want a snoot smooch?”
“Yes.” Dead serious.
“Okay.” She stands just enough to lean over the table. “Bring it in.”
I do, and she carefully zeroes in to place a kiss on my nose. Mr. Pickles should be so lucky.
“Ideal slope,” she says softly.
What a ridiculous phrase to make my heart beat this fast.
“Now,” she says, settling back down, “if you’re jealous of Mr. Pickles’s huge social media following, I have some ideas about that.”
“You don’t have to run ideas for Dogeared’s socials by me. I trust you.” She hasn’t checked in since she made a video using a trending sound and wanted me to be in the background standing perfectly still. Not to brag, but I nailed it.
“Aww, that’s sweet, but my ideas aren’t for Dogeared. They’re for Miles Forrester, science fiction writer, esquire, first of his name, etcetera etcetera.”
“I don’t have social media.”
She shoots me a “duh” look. “They’re ideas to help you get started.”
“Engaging with strangers on social media is not my wheelhouse.” I have a small Discord of sci-fi writers that I participate in, but that’s not remotely the same thing. Putting myself out there, shilling my books, trying to turn browsers into readers and readers into fans—I wouldn’t know where to start.
She takes my hand like she’s comforting a small child. “That’s the point, sweetie.”
I can’t control the smile on my face. Don’t want to.
Georgia closes her eyes. “Rule number five: don’t give nicknames on the first date.”
“Rule number six: give all the nicknames on the first date, darling pumpkin.”
She opens her eyes again but breaks down into a fit of giggles. “Seriously, this date is over. We can try again some other day. Maybe I’ll be more normal then.”
“I don’t want normal.”
She laughs even harder. “Is the rest of that sentence ‘…I just want you?’ Because that’s kinda iffy as a compliment.”
“‘I just want you’ is a complete sentence all on its own.”
Her cheeks blaze red, but she can’t stop smiling. “I feel like we’re going to need a lot more rules.”
“That’s okay. I like being a rebel.”
That seems to be the funniest joke of all, and it takes her a minute to recover. “Do you want to go to the Abandoned Manor?”
“Why not? Be prepared for rule number seven: don’t scream like a banshee on the first date.”