Chapter Twelve
Scarlett
WADE
Can I stop by and bring you something?
SCARLETT
I’m already on my way out on a date.
WADE
Are you?
WADE
Because I’m waiting outside the main door, and I see your bike right here.
He sends a picture of my bike still chained up at the front of The Serendipity.
He’s got me there, the little stalker.
I sigh and trudge up the stairs from my apartment, down the hall, and through the front lobby. I find him standing at the front door, talking with Galentine, the lady who used to own this building. She might’ve sold this place, but she’s still in love with it. She always talks about the magic of The Serendipity. She’s almost got me believing this building is magic. It’s really brightened my life to be here, so maybe it is a little magical.
I unlock the front door and open it.
Wade looks at me with a smirk on his face.
“You don’t have to give me that look,” I tell him. “Just because I’m trying to enjoy getting ready uninterrupted.”
Galentine looks back and forth between the two of us.
“Is this nice young man here to take you on a date?”
I open my mouth to refute this question, but Wade jumps in.
“Why, yes, I am,” he says. “I’m here to drive her to the date. She’s never ready when she says she will be.”
Galentine laughs at that. “It’s because she’s a smart woman. Everyone knows women like to keep you men on your toes. Why, it’s the only reason we do it! One of these days, she’ll be on time, and you’ll have the shock of your life.”
“You’re about to have the shock of something,” I mutter quietly for Wade’s ears only.
He just grins at me. “Come on, sweetie . We’d better go get your purse.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, and I have an urge to pinch him. Maybe run over his toes with my scooter. Instead, I give Galentine a tight smile and motion for Wade to follow me inside. She continues on her way down the stairs toward the road, and Wade closes the main door after him.
“You can’t just tell that woman you’re here to pick me up for a date! She knows people! Pretty soon, the whole building is going to think we’re dating. Not to mention, you’re here all the time. They probably already think we’re dating.”
“I didn’t realize I embarrassed you so much. Next time I come see you, I’ll wear a ski mask,” he teases.
I lead the way past the front desk and down the hallway, past the five apartments on this side, and to the narrow staircase that leads down to the basement. Once we reach my apartment, I open the door and walk in to grab my purse.
“I’m not joking, Wade. I have somewhere to be.”
“And I’m not joking that I’d like to drive you.”
“Why?” I look at him, waiting for him to say the truth.
“You know why. Don’t make me say it.”
“I will make you say it,” I shoot back.
“I don’t want you biking or walking in the dark.”
I stare him down, wishing I could project all my angry thoughts at him. Except I can’t even articulate why I’m so mad at him. It’s not like all these bad dates have only happened because of him. But he keeps being there to witness my humiliation, and that especially bothers me.
“And Phoenix asked me to look after you while he was gone.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I watch as he squirms.
“How did you know I would be at Novel Notions?” I ask quietly. “Now is there anything else you need to get off your chest?”
He nods once. “Phoenix wanted to know you were safe…” His eyes go to the purse looped over my shoulder.
I glance down at the large, baby blue purse, curious why he’s staring at it. “You’ve already admitted Phoenix wanted you to check on me…”
Wade waggles his eyebrows up and down as though he’s trying to tell me something without words. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell you…but think about how I knew where you were.”
“And you’ve shown up here twice now…” I reach into the purse and pull out my phone. “Is this what you mean?”
Wade’s eyes widen. “You’re so hot.”
My cheeks flush and I try to remember that he’s trying to help me figure out something that Phoenix doesn’t want me to know. It’s not that he actually thinks I’m hot. That would be ridiculous.
I stare at the phone, hoping my cheeks aren’t too red. “Ohhhhh. Phoenix downloaded a tracking app on my phone didn’t he?”
I look up to see Wade nodding vigorously.
“I knew it,” I mutter. “It was probably Dad’s idea.” I unlock my phone and do a quick search. He’d added it to my workout folder. The one I never open. “See how much better it feels with the truth out in the open?”
Wade chuckles. “Not going to lie, it did feel a little creepy. But he made me promise not to tell you. So it’s a good thing you found it on your own, right?” He winks.
I grin at him and put my phone back in my purse. I like that he was honest with me. That he’s trusting me enough to tell me—without words—that they were literally spying on me.
“Just promise to call me if you need me, okay?” The earnest look on his face is adorable.
“I will. You really don’t need to worry about me though.”
“But I am worried about you. If something happened to you, it could be a couple of days before someone even realized something bad had happened.”
Forget him being sweet. He’s still a giant pain in the butt. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I don’t have friends? I have friends! People who would notice if I was gone.”
“If you’re talking about Lilly, I happen to know she is as bad at communicating as you are.”
I grab my emergency tube of lipstick from my purse and walk to the mirror hanging in my living room. I lean forward and apply a good layer before answering him. “You know, it’s funny. You would think, with me being a court reporter, I would be pretty decent at communicating. I type all day. It shouldn’t be that hard to send a text or make a phone call. But sometimes, by the end of the day, the most daunting task I can do is pick up my phone and send a text. It’s like this looming task that takes an unbearable amount of effort.”
I cap the lipstick and put it back in my purse and turn to face Wade whose gaze is firmly focused on me. “I don’t know why I just said that to you. Please pretend like I didn’t.”
Wade continues to study me. “Okay, I get that. Not completely, because I don’t have that feeling, but I understand what you’re saying. So if it’s too much to respond to a call or a text, I want you to send me just one emoji as proof of life. That’s it. That’s all I’m asking.”
He folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the island in my kitchen. I don’t answer him yet as I mull over his request. He did tell me about the spyware. That’s trust.
Wade continues, “You don’t owe me any words. You don’t owe me any explanation. All I want to know is that you are okay.”
I stare at him for a few minutes while I take in what he’s saying. It’s so different from how my family would respond. They would admonish me for not texting back, for not giving a paragraph in response to their question. They wouldn’t understand my need to just stay silent for a little bit. And yet here is Wade, the extrovert, who may not understand where I’m coming from, but he’s willing to meet me where I am.
“You know, I think maybe I could do that. And I think you’re very sweet for being so understanding.” I walk toward him and set my purse on the counter next to him. His eyes widen as I lean up on my tiptoes and reach for him.
“I would ask if this is the part where you’re going to stuff me in your basement, but I’m already here,” he says .
I just laugh as I wrap my arms around his neck. Attempting to hug someone significantly taller than you can be a little awkward sometimes.
He unfolds his arms and hugs me back.
“What’s this for?” he asks.
I give him one more good squeeze and then let go. “It’s because you let me be me, and I like that.”
“Well, you’d better knock that off or I’m going to cry. And I know you’re a sympathetic crier,” he teases quietly.
I grin at that. It’s true. I can’t stand to see other people cry. They could be crying about their pet goldfish I’ve never met, but when I see other people being sad, it’s like something overcomes me and I have to be sad with them in solidarity. It’s a problem sometimes when working in a courtroom.
The clock on the wall catches my eye. “Well, now you made me late for my date.” I go back from being grateful to grumpy at him.
He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Good thing I have these!”
I frown at that. “You know I don’t like driving in cars.” Ever since the wreck, I’ve had a hard time riding in cars. Everything seems to move too fast, and I flinch anytime I see something coming out of the corner of my eye. I’ve been working on it with a therapist, and it’s getting progressively better, but it’s still not easy.
“Good thing I’ll be the one driving, then. Come on, I’ll drop you off. It’ll be fine.”
I glance at the time, then back at Wade. He’s right. It will be fine. It has to be.
I follow him out of the building and to the street where he’s parked. He drives a black 4Runner that looks like it could handle a snowy mountain with ease. He even holds the door for me as I climb in .
“You look nice in that sundress,” he tells me. Then he closes the door, and I don’t have a chance to thank him for the compliment.
He walks around to the driver’s seat, and I do my best not to bunch up the sundress I’m wearing and put a big wrinkle in it. He turns on the car and immediately puts on some music. He messes around with the settings until he finds something upbeat, loud, and easy to sing along with.
He reaches over and pats my leg. I know he just means it to be reassuring, something to make me feel safe, but all I can focus on is the contact of his calloused hand on my bare leg.
Usually, when I get in a car, I feel frozen. I remember every single moment of the wreck. It’s why I prefer to bike everywhere. Every time I climb into a car, I struggle not to relive the moment of the crash. I’ve only managed to drive a couple of times since then, and when a car is necessary, I prefer to let my brother or mom drive me somewhere.
But tonight, Wade is distracting me more than he’ll ever know. He’s trying to do it with music, but that little touch is enough to take my mind off anything that could happen in this vehicle. And I cannot be thinking like that.
He pulls into the street, and I rest my hand on the spot where he touched my leg. It’s almost like I can still feel his hand there.
Wade glances over and notices me clutching my leg. I immediately let go and smile at him.
He gives me a soft smile back. “It’s going to be okay, Scooter.”
Then he reaches across and grasps my hand in his. And he just holds it.
My cheeks feel warm all of a sudden, and I wonder if it’s because I’m stressed or because I’m holding Wade’s hand.
While he drives me to my date, he sings loudly and off-key enough to catch my attention. He’s trying to do all the things to keep me focused on something other than driving because he is well acquainted with my fear of cars.
But what he doesn’t know is that him holding my hand is the most powerful thing he could’ve ever done. Because I never knew my hand could fit in Wade’s so perfectly.
And why is it sending an electric shock up my arm?
Why does it feel so right to be holding his hand when I’m about to go on a date with another man?
Wade drops me off in front of Aria, the Italian bistro. I glance down at my phone and look at the picture I have of my date so that when I walk inside the restaurant, I’ll recognize him.
I make my way past the other nice tables full of customers and sit down across from Peyton Harrington.
Aria is a small Italian restaurant close to The Serendipity. It could have been biking distance, but jumping in the car with Wade was much faster and I didn’t want to be late. It won’t be a big deal to walk home afterward, though.
I’ve only been to this restaurant once before and really enjoyed it. It shows good taste on Peyton’s part that he chose it for our first date.
Instrumental music is playing softly in the background. Everyone is talking in regular tones, not like a bar and grill where you have to shout to be heard. The tables are covered in sparkling white tablecloths.
I feel underdressed sitting here in my sundress—like maybe I should have worn something more formal to fit with the restaurant’s style.
Peyton smiles nervously at me. He’s Lilly’s cousin whom she mentioned the other night on the rooftop. A couple of days later, she arranged a date, and he chose Aria.
“Hi,” he says in a shaky voice.
“Hi.” I smile back. He’s cute. Not the kind of looks you notice right away, but that might have more to do with his unassuming presence. A cute face and dimples when he smiles shyly.
“Thanks for coming to dinner with me,” he says as he slowly pushes the breadbasket across the table toward me. “Lilly said you’re very busy and I was lucky you have time to come out with me.”
I laugh at that. “Lilly likes to tease.”
Peyton smiles at that. “Yes, she does. In fact, she’ll probably be calling you after this date. She told me she would—to make sure you had a good time.”
As far as dates go, this one ends up being pleasant. He’s nice, and I feel comfortable with him.
So comfortable, in fact, that I let my mind wander just a little too much. I spend far too much time thinking about Wade and the events that led me here. All ten minutes of them. Which means I get to replay them over and over.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I remember holding his hand in the car and the way I clutched it in mine. Gah . Talk about embarrassing! He was trying to be reassuring, and I was busy hanging onto it like it was the last time I’d get to hold a man’s hand.
“Are you okay?” Peyton asks.
I snap my eyes open. “Yes! Of course. Just my eyes…” I trail off because I have no idea what my excuse is.
He nods in understanding. “Sometimes at the end of the day, my eyes bother me too. Maybe we should both get appointments for the eye doctor soon,” he teases.
He’s so sweet and understanding. I want there to be a connection between us. I want to feel some attraction with this guy.
Instead, my stinkin’ brain is focusing on the man who drove me here.
We finish our date, and I walk out of the building next to Peyton. He stops on the sidewalk next to a black car. He glances down at his phone. “Lilly already texted to ask if you’re having fun.”
I laugh at that. “She’s probably more worried about you having a good time. She knows I’m a boring date.”
He shakes his head. “No, definitely not.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I guess this is good night, then?”
Goodbyes are always awkward. Do I shake his hand? Say thanks for the date? Kiss his cheek? Give him a hug?
I haven’t kissed anyone goodnight in a long time. Forget goodnight kisses; I haven’t kissed anyone at all in a long time.
Which is sad. I’m twenty-five. This should be the prime kissing time of my life. Instead, I’m someone who’s never been in a relationship that’s lasted longer than seven weeks and hasn’t kissed anyone in almost a year.
Peyton leans toward me. “Would…” He swallows audibly. “Would it be okay to kiss you goodnight?”
He’s so sweet and respectful, asking before making a move. I smile at him. “Yes, of course.”
Of course? Did that sound weird? It probably did.
Peyton smiles and takes a hesitant step toward me. I keep my hands at my sides as he reaches for me.
He closes his eyes and puckers his lips leaning toward me. I tip my head so that he’ll actually find my lips, but before we make contact, a car engine revs and a horn honks.
I jerk my head to see what’s happening, and Peyton’s lips land on my cheek with a loud smacking sound.
We both step back quickly. “Oops, sorry, the car scared me,” I try to explain. Hoping he won’t look too closely at the 4Runner parked across the street that honked at us.
Wade .
Peyton blushes. “Thank you for the date. I hope we can go out again.” And then he climbs into his car and drives away.
I look both ways before marching across the street to knock on Wade’s driver’s-side window. He rolls the window down a few inches to where I can only see his eyes and the top of his head. “Yes?” His tone is innocent, but I know better. He’s leaving his tinted window up so I can’t see his laughing face.
“You honked at us.” I tap the window with my index finger.
I can hear a soft chuckle even over the sound of the engine. “It was an accident!”
I mutter under my breath and march around to the passenger side. I’m willing to get into a car again, and it’s because I’m fueled by rage.
I climb into the passenger seat and turn to look at Wade. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but I can see the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I hope you know the restraint I’m using right now.”
“Oh, really?” he says as he turns to lean an elbow on the middle console. He leans toward me and waggles his eyebrows. “And what would you do to get even?”
I reach up and run my fingers rapidly up and down the side of his neck. He slams back into his seat with a shriek. “Dang it, Scarlett! You know my neck is ticklish.”
I smile sweetly at him. “Serves you right. Now you can drive me home.”
He chuckles and turns the music on.He’s got a goofy grin as he starts to turn onto the same street as The Serendipity.
When a car speeds by us where they shouldn’t be passing, I let out a soft gasp and instinctively reach for Wade’s hand.
Wade slams on his brakes and avoids the car with ease. He turns his hand over, grasping mine and then using it as his personal microphone while singing “Espresso” in a falsetto voice. Completely ignoring the fact someone almost hit us.
He winks at me and continues singing until I’m crying with laughter. Each squeeze of his hand on mine reminding me that we’re okay.
By the time he drops me off at home, I’ve forgotten about my frustration, and thinking that I was more relaxed in that car with Wade than I was on my date.