20. Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
I have no fucking clue why I kissed her. I mean, I do. Because I wanted to.
But why?
Now she’s overthinking like crazy, probably has started planning our wedding already and picked our kid’s names. But I can’t leave my first date with her like that. I’m still reeling a few days after the kiss, replaying it over and over like a pent up teenage girl.
And if I’m feeling like this, Gigi is most definitely feeling some type of way, too.
I don’t have much to go on in the date idea department, but I remember Gigi saying the artist took her to a nice restaurant downtown. They had rooftop seating, she said, and made sure to express her disappointment that he didn’t request sitting up there.
“You really should pull out all the stops for a woman if you really like her,” she told me behind a melodic laugh. “I deserve a rooftop, Cade.” She quickly followed up, saying she was kidding. I know Gigi, and I know there was no joke behind those words.
But it got me thinking. Gigi deserves a rooftop. I’ve never come close to anything like this. Why not start with the one girl I’ve met who deserves everything she wants?
I called to make reservations and was so nervous I almost spelled my own last name wrong. I had to take a second shower just to get rid of the nervous sweat.
I brought a suit with me, but that was out of an abundance of caution in the case of a pop-up meeting about the shop. Now I’m forcing myself into it and wondering if the jacket is too much and if the black-on-black-on-black looks more funeral director than a guy deserving of a date.
“That suit,” Gigi says, walking with trepidation to the truck later that evening. “What is that suit?”
She slides into the seat next to me and shuts the door behind her as I say, “You like? Or is it—”
She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, averting her eyes. “It’s… You look good.”
“That’s it?” I ask with a laugh. “ Good? ”
“What do you want from me?” she accuses with a smile. “If you want me to say you’re the sexiest man who’s ever lived or something, I’m not doing it. I refuse.”
I smirk. “Gigi, correct me if I’m wrong, but you just did. You said the words ‘ you are the sexiest man who’s ever lived’ .”
She gives my arm a shove. “Is this the part where you murder me? Finally?”
“The opposite,” I say. “Dinner.”
“Why did you ask me to wear a dress to take me to the Pizza Ice Cream Parlor?”
I sigh. “You think that’s where we’re going?”
Her gaze burns the side of my face. “Duh. Where else could you be taking me?”
“It’s a surprise,” I tell her, meeting those fiery eyes. “Just hold on.”
“Hold on?” she accuses. “You could be taking me anywhere.”
“Have I ever taken you somewhere you didn’t want to go?” She’s silent. “Why would I ask you to put on heels to take you for pizza? What kind of man do you think I am, princess?”
Gigi’s eyes roll. “The kind who doesn’t do this.” She gestures around. “Sorry for my confusion.” As we pull into the parking lot near the restaurant, she says, “The only place close is Merlot, Cade. Are we eating at Merlot?”
I wordlessly get out of the truck and meet her at her side, opening the door. “Come on,” I urge. “You’ll just have to see.”
Her lips part, brow furrowed as I help her from the truck and we begin the walk to the restaurant. “This is expensive,” she hisses. “Cade. You’re trying to start a business. This isn’t a business-savvy choice. I would know.”
“I’m sure you would. College teaches you a lot, huh?”
“You’re forgetting my mother is a horrid business owner,” she counters, smirking. “I’m learning by observing her mistakes.”
When we walk in, the lights are low, candlelight illuminating every table. “It’s busy,” Gigi whisper-yells. “Did you make a—”
“Reservation? Yes,” I whisper. “I did.”
I tell the hostess my name, and when she confirms the rooftop table, Gigi’s eyes nearly pop free from her skull. She’s silent until we’re seated at our private table, partitions of glass separating us from downtown Geddington Beach that lies below. She’s looking at the twinkling lights above our heads, grinning.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she whispers at the starry sky. “Why did you do this?” she says, louder.
“Because I want you to teach me how to take a girl on a nice date. We’ve got the carnival thing down, I’d say”—Gigi’s cheeks redden at that—”but I need pointers on fine dining, schmoozing.”
She swallows. “Is that right?”
I nod. “That’s right. What do you say, princess? Dinner’s on me. You just need to show me how to wine and dine you.”
“I don’t think wining and dining me should be your concern,” Gigi mocks, but her cheeks are aflame, telling me all I need to know. “But I’ll be more than happy to give you pointers.”
I smile. “Wonderful. Where do we start? Wait. I think I know.” I look Gigi up and down, the black dress and velvety heels she’s wearing, her necklace sparkling in the light, her hair tucked securely in a bun. “You look stunning tonight.”
Gigi’s eyes twinkle. “I think black is your color,” she replies.
“Yours, too,” I reply thickly. She’s wearing the dress I recommended from our night at Murphy’s.
Gigi asks if we can get a bottle of wine. While I’m not a wine drinker, it seems as though wine is the preferred alcohol here, as I watch ice buckets and bottles get delivered again and again. I oblige Gigi, and after I awkwardly order a bottle and the waitress asks what type of wine, I freeze.
“Rosé,” Gigi tells the waitress. “Please.”
“House or top shelf?”
What does that mean? I thought that was a hard liquor thing.
Gigi’s eyes flick to me. Confidently, she replies, “House, please.”
When the waitress walks away, I hiss, “What was that? I have no idea what just happened.”
“There’s more alcohol in the world than just hard liquor and beer, Cade,” she muses, smirking.
I suppose she’s got a point. “Then I guess I should say your wine expertise is surprising to me.”
Gigi waves a hand in my direction as she surveys the wine list. Her brow furrows.
“What?” I ask.
“I think you need a crash course,” she decides. “And then we can decide on apps.”
Gigi meticulously parses the wine list, pointing at things and briskly defining them. She quizzes me at the end, and I still don’t know the difference between a chardonnay and a riesling. But, in fairness, I don’t think Gigi knows the difference either.
“Maybe we get a second bottle,” she says, “for experimental purposes.”
“Uh huh.”
“What?”
“I don’t think we need it,” I chide.
“Cade. Rule number one should be let your date lead.”
I guffaw. “Is that so? Even if your date wants to get plastered in public?”
She’s downed nearly half the bottle of rosé on her own. At this point, letting her get another bottle is a disservice to us both.
“I don’t want to get plastered ,” she snaps, her cheeks getting pinker by the second. “I’m having a good time.”
“Why don’t we wait until you eat?” I offer. “You get your food, then we’ll talk about more wine.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ve had plenty of bread.” I give her a warning look. “Fine.”
“I think you’re a touch buzzed. Is this normal date protocol for you?”
“Just with you,” she says, breezy, then meets my gaze like a deer in headlights. “I mean, like, because I know I’ll get home safe with you. You won’t leave me passed out somewhere.”
My jaw pulses at the thought. “Don’t tell me that has happened to you before.” Because I will leave right now and kill whoever did it.
She brightens. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
My shoulders drop, jaw relaxing. “Good.”
“Cade,” Gigi hums from across the table after rosé glass number four, “you look very nice in that suit.”
I smirk. “Thank you. How’s that risotto?”
“Heavenly,” she moans, taking another spoonful. “I appreciate this. It’s nice to go out with no expectations.”
“Oh, so you don’t have any expectations for me? Perfect.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “You know what I mean.”
I shrug. “Can’t say I do.”
“It’s nice to go out and know you don’t want anything from me. You’re just taking me to dinner because you want to.”
“And because I need to learn how to love,” I remind her.
She waves a hand. “That, too, I guess. It’s nice to think that you’re doing this because you like me, though.”
“Of course I do. You’re likable.”
Her ears turn pink. “Dessert?” she asks quickly, reaching for a dessert menu at the head of the table. “I want dessert.”
“Of course. Whatever your heart desires.”
Her smile is enough to illuminate the entire restaurant. And I want more of it.
We split a flourless chocolate cake with some raspberry stuff that Gigi calls compote . I didn’t know chocolate cake could be made without flour, but I’ll go so far as to say it’s better than if flour had been included. For twenty dollars, it should be.
When we get the bill, Gigi looks like she might reach for it. Which is the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say as I capture the leather booklet. “No chance in hell you’re paying a dime, princess.”
“I was the one who wanted two bottles of wine,” she says, stern.
“I don’t care,” I shoot back coyly. “Isn’t it customary for the man to pay?”
She can’t argue her own logic.
“Tell me about your family,” I say as Gigi’s fighting to finish bottle number two. “What are they like?”
“You’ve met Belinda,” Gigi groans, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “But everyone else? Nothing like her.”
I sip the wine. My head is buzzing like I have a beehive starting in my brainstem. It’s not the wine. It’s entirely the drug that is Gigi Knox.
She tells me her dad is a lawyer, that her younger sister is starting college in the fall and has no idea what she wants to do. “Can you get a bachelor' in Gen Ed? Does that mean I can do everything?” Gigi says, mocking Mollie.
“You’ll love her,” Gigi explains. “She picks on me just like you do.”
“I felt the same about Rory when I met her.” I laugh. “I thought, damn, that’s somebody that kicks my brother’s ass as hard as me.”
“It’s out of love. Both of you.”
“What? You mean EJ?”
“I mean you guys being assholes to EJ,” she explains. “You both love him so much. It just comes out… weird.”
“You think?” I challenge, meeting her gaze over the goblet of my glass as I finish it off.
“I know. People show love in weird ways. For Rory, it’s a middle finger. For EJ, it’s acts of service. I think.”
We start making our way out of the restaurant and are walking through the alleyway leading to the parking lot. “How does it work for you?” I ask, watching her face. “Do you need, like, billboards and planes pulling banners to feel love?”
She chuckles, stopping in her tracks. She leans against the brick of the alleyway, letting her head fall back. “Hardly.”
The buzzing in my head continues as I step closer to Gigi. I reach for her, looping a hand around her wrist. She shrugs. I switch gears, putting my hands on either side of her head, palms flat against the brick. “What do you need, then?” I’m prepared to give her exactly as she asks.
She sighs, straightening, and pushing herself closer to me. “Just this,” she whispers. She studies my face, blue eyes floating down to my lips. “I just need—”
As quickly as she’s here, close, she’s gone, moving around where I’ve boxed her in.
I stand there, palms flat, for a second too long, gaping at her.
“Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know what happened.”
I do. You want me just as bad as I want you and you know it, Gigi.