Chapter 17
17
S liding into the booth of the cozy diner for brunch, I’ve had the best morning with Jake.
I haven’t been so unburdened and unbothered from life’s responsibilities in a long time.
Right now, the most difficult thing I’m thinking about is deciding between an omelet and avocado toast.
Jake’s fingers are distracting me from this simple decision as they trace my hand.
Looking up from the menu, he’s across from me at the old-school booth, staring at me with the cutest puppy dog expression.
“It was impressive how you carried me so far.” He literally carried me to the restaurant.
It was mildly embarrassing to be on a grown man’s back walking down Main Street, but I liked it.
“Anything for you, Sparky.”
“Sparky?” I squint at him, loving the way he’s playing with my fingers.
“It’s that or firecracker.”
I snort.
“It’s neither of those.”
We both laugh softly, and I glance around the busy diner, noting the Fourth of July decorations everywhere, from the plastic star centerpieces to the banners hanging on the walls.
“Oh come on, those are cute nicknames,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Keep working on it.”
“Fire starter?”
“I didn’t start the fire!” I say, overly dramatic on purpose.
“I know,” he says, chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this naming game.
“At least you’re not calling me Red … Everyone thinks they are so clever when they call me Red.”
Jake leans forward.
“Why would they call you Red?” He grabs the end of my ponytail and gives it a playful tug.
“You’re into hair pulling, got it,” I tease.
Not mad to learn this about him.
My mind drifts to him shoving my face into a pillow and digging his fingers into my roots.
Focus!
“So, have you decided?” he asks, leaning back.
“I’ll have the western omelet. You?”
“French toast with bacon. Another coffee?”
I nod, and he slides out of the booth, heading up to the counter.
I watch him go, smiling to myself, surprised at how easy this all feels.
Two hours have flown by.
When he returns, he sets the mug down and extends his other hand toward me.
“Here’s a Band-Aid for your blister,” he says, offering it with a proud grin before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my temple.
Cute.
I lean down to put it on my heel as he sits across from me in the booth.
When I sit back up, he immediately grabs for my hand again.
Staring at him while thinking he’s too perfect, I decide to revisit our earlier conversation.
“I want to circle back on something. Let’s talk about the stuff you’re not supposed to talk about on dates.”
“You’re having too much fun so you’re looking for an out?” He raises a brow, leaning back onto the booth.
“Maybe.” I bite my tongue.
“But tell me about your political views.” I really hope his beliefs are not a deal breaker for me.
“If I had to be lumped into a bucket, then I guess I’m Libertarian.”
Interesting.
I’m not really familiar with that party.
“Why’s that?”
“We’re adults here, we don’t need to be told what to do. I think there should be less attempted parenting in politics.”
“That’s a good way of putting it … I try to stay out of politics, but I get so mad about so much that’s happening, especially with women’s rights.”
“I know. In my twenties, I honestly considered running for something. I started getting more involved with local politics and explored what the available positions are. I thought with the military, me being a firefighter, and not unattractive, I could get some traction.”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
“Enough that I have no desire to put my family and friends through that experience. I wouldn’t want anyone to get dragged through the mud because I decided to run for something.” He pauses, looking thoughtful.
“When I was considering that, I decided I value my anonymity more than anything.”
Sipping my coffee, I ruminate on all of his words.
“Do you want to save the world?”
“I used to. Now I just want to make someone’s day better every day. It’s an attainable goal.”
“You’re cute.”
“I love when you’re nice to me.” He squeezes my hand.
“So, tell me about your political views?”
“I think women should have full control over their bodies. You could say I’m a single-issue voter on that topic.”
“It’s good that you vote. Nothing makes me more frustrated than people with lots of opinions who don’t vote.”
“Same.”
My phone buzzes, and stress immediately kicks in.
Is it Gabby’s dad?
Is she sick again?
Jake’s no phones on dates sentiment replays as I stare down at my phone on the table.
“Just look at it,” he says with a soft laugh.
“Thanks. Sorry.”
Nicholas O’Malley
Hosting an impromptu barbecue on Sunday from ten to one.
Would love to see you and Gabby there.
I have an exciting announcement.
Announcement?
“The owner of High Five texted me,” I share.
“Nicholas is one of my friends.”
“Yeah?” That’s another point for Jake.
Nicholas is good people.
“Everything about this text is suspicious …”
“Let me see,” Jake says, and I cock my head.
“You probably got the text too.”
“No phones on dates.” He winks, then extends his hand, and I give him my phone.
“I have an idea,” he says coyly, looking down at the screen.
What could Nicholas be announcing?
My gut is telling me it has to do with Emily.
“Me too … but would he really get engaged after seven months of being official?”
“When you know, you know,” Jake says, far too casually.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Jake’s sincerity and eye contact are unreal.
“So … since you want to spend so much time with me, what do you think about going to that barbecue on Sunday?”
“As a date?” he playfully asks.
“Yes.”
“I’d love that.”
“Is it okay if I text Nicholas back?”
“Asking for permission.” Jake bites his lip.
“Such a good girl.” I shake my head, blushing while texting.
Claire Moore
See you then.
Your place?
Gabby is with her dad, but I’ll be arriving with your friend Jake.
Nicholas O’Malley
Not at my place.
Long story, but my sister’s friend owns a house on the lake and offered it to us for the party.
I’ll text you the address.
And Jake Schmidt?
“Is your last name Schmidt?” I ask, looking up from my phone, feeling embarrassed I didn’t ask yet.
“Yeah.”
Claire Moore
Yes.
That Jake.
Nicholas O’Malley
Good guy.
Tell him Chad and Chris will be there too.
I hit the thumbs up reaction.
“Nicholas wants me to tell you that Chad and Chris will be there.”
“Nice!” Jake squeezes my hand.
“I’m sure you’re still getting used to small town life, where everyone knows everyone’s business.”
“Still getting used to it, yes. Same Chad whose truck got pranked?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh … small towns.”
Leaving the diner, he asks, “Could you share an ice cream?”
“Aren’t you full?”
“That’s why I’m offering to share.” The smile on his face.
I can’t get over how much of a Golden Retriever he can be sometimes.
I’ve never dated a guy like this.
“I feel like we have to do it,” he says.
“It’s the fourth.”
“We can share an ice cream as long as it’s not Superman or mint flavored.”
“Should we get vanilla?” He winks.
“I’m open.” I smirk, liking the thought of what a relationship with Jake could look like.
Jake grabs my chin, leaning down for a firm kiss.
“Isn’t today the best day?”
“It’s really nice. You’re doing a good job of keeping my brain off.”
He grumbles before whispering, “I know, look how nice you’re being to me.”
I swat his chest, and he chuckles, leading us to the ice cream shop on the corner of Main Street.
“Sea salt caramel?” he asks, and honestly, that is the perfect choice.
“My favorite.”
We wait in the line, and he stands behind me hugging me tight.
This is a fantasy.
Almost seventy-two hours of not being a mom.
Not needing to work.
What will this be like when reality kicks back in?
Jake kisses the top of my head.
“Stop stressing.”
“How do you know I’m stressed?” I whisper, looking up at him.
“You’re not really a quiet person unless you’re deep in thought.”
He’s got me there.
Jake orders for us and pays.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he says, grabbing my hand, leading us to the other side of the shop to wait for the ice cream.
“What trashy reality TV show is in our future?”
“I haven’t watched something that isn’t animated in months, so whatever new dating show is on Netflix.”
“Why a dating show?”
“They’re always so bad, and we can make bets about who is and isn’t going to work out.”
He chuckles, taking the ice cream from the worker.
Extending it to me, I lick a little and then he bites into it, staring at me.
I flinch, watching that.
“How can you bite into ice cream?” I ask, still feeling tingles in my body because my teeth are too sensitive to ever bite into ice cream.
He bites it again, holding eye contact with me.
Well, that’s hot.
Jake hands me the cone, and we walk outside.
Strolling along the sidewalk, stealing the cone from each other as we walk, I love this.
Today has been fun.
I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.