Chapter Ten
WINTER
The next week began in a bit of a blur.
I had deliveries of stock, which meant more inventory, customers almost every minute of every day, late evenings, and two gremlin kittens who were growing like weeds taking up every spare moment of my day.
I got a text every morning at eight o’clock sharp from Deacon. Not just any kind of mundane text. Oh no . . . these were quotes, simply one line from a poem and nothing else.
It made every part of me happy.
Monday morning: Hope Is the Thing with Feathers by Emily Dickinson.
Tuesday morning: I Wandered Lonely as A Cloud by William Wordsworth.
Wednesday: Joy And Woe by William Blake. If he knew how much I adored his work.
I’d replied to each one with a gif of epic swooning because no words could so adequately describe how it made me feel.
I was positively on cloud nine.
I did text him every night when I was finally at home, in bed, done with the world for the day. Not with anything as profound as he sent me, but just small snippets of thought.
Crazy busy day today. Ordered more Studio Ghibli fun stuff
Did you know that Emily Dickinson’s father was a US senator?
Yes I knew that.
Of course he knew that.
I sent him a photo of Bright and Merry curled up asleep together in their blankets.
And a photo of the page of Howl’s Moving Castle as I re-read it for the nth time.
“Doors are very powerful things.”
Remind me to bring you this to read.
He’d replied with a photo from his book, the one I’d kept aside for him at the store.
These small snippets of him, the gestures of poetry every morning, his thoughtfulness, his reaching out to me because I’d told him it wouldn’t go unnoticed, made my heart sing.
He made me happy.
And I knew it was different than spending actual time with him. This was easier for both of us, clearly. And I liked him. As in, really liked him.
Any man who sent me poetry was always going to win.
Thursday morning, Ro and I were already at the store. I had a delivery coming in first thing and I wanted to run through some stock numbers.
I was watching my phone as it neared eight o’clock when it beeped with a message. I’d sent him a photo of Merry and Bright in their new play pen with the caption It makes them look so tiny.
Right at eight o’clock came his reply.
I gasped at my phone.
“What is it?” Ro asked.
“Oh, he’s good,” I mumbled. Then I showed her the screen.
“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart” by A.A. Milne.
Ro’s excited gaze went from my phone screen to my eyes. “Oh my. He is good. And he’s playing to win,” she said.
I sighed happily. “And he’s not even trying. It’s just him. Okay, well, this one may have been prompted. He sent me two unprompted poetry quotes and I told him all future poetry quotes would not go unnoticed, so perhaps he took that as a challenge. I mean, he knows I love them, so . . .”
“You know what I think?” she asked. “I think for someone who struggles to express himself, what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling, he’s found a way of doing that with you.”
“Aww.” My heart.
“It’s super sweet, Win.”
I held my phone to my chest. “I know.”
“Takiwātanga,” she said gently. “His time and space, Win.”
“I’m seeing him today,” I said quietly. Excitement and anticipation were wreaking havoc on my nervous system. “Well, hopefully. He’s had a busy week as well. Something to do with livestock.”
We both grimaced.
“Better than a hermit crab with dry skin,” I added, still unable to stop thinking about that. I grimaced harder. “We’ll probably just do a quick cup of coffee or something,” I went on. “But then dinner with his parents on Sunday.”
Her facial expressions did a whole performance, but she settled on a twisted pout that was mostly telling me she had opinions.
“Just say it.”
“Well, that’s a big step,” she said. “Dinner with the parents is a big milestone. You were still set on doing the micro-dates so he doesn’t get too overwhelmed or pressured, and the texting seems to be good for both of you, but then you’re having dinner with his parents. That’s not micro, Win. That’s macro.”
“Macro-dates are not a thing,” I said. “And if it were anyone else, I’d probably agree.
But Deacon’s . . . I don’t want to say different because that implies negative things and that’s not what I mean.
He’s not like other guys.” That was a better way to say it.
“He’s very close with his parents, they’re a very big part of his life, and I’m guessing their opinion and approval of me would be a deciding factor for him. ”
Ro frowned. “Win, darling.”
“It’s not a bad thing. I’ve met them before a few times.
I don’t need them to like me. It’s more that maybe they need to see I have good intentions with him.
I’m sure there’d be assholes out there who would want to take advantage of him, or who’d be generally horrible to him.
I can’t blame Deacon’s parents for that.
” I sighed. “He had that incident in college with a guy that upset him to the point where he wanted to quit school. It was a whole thing. I don’t blame his parents for being cautious. ”
“I know.” She frowned. “That really must have been awful.”
I nodded. “And this is just dinner. Even if nothing further ever eventuates between Deacon and me, romantically, I’d still like to be friends with him.” I held up my phone. “He quotes poetry to me, Ro. Po-et-tree. Do you know how amazing that is? How utterly perfect that is?”
Just then, a tiny white and orange blur ran out of the stockroom. I gasped and ran to collect Bright before he disappeared under the shelves. “Hey, little mister,” I said, holding him to my chest. “How did you get out?”
I had their play pen set up in the corner; the heater was on. They had food and their bed with blankets and toys, and small litter tray. I had the baby carrier in case they needed cuddles.
I was prepared!
I was not prepared for Bright climbing out and escaping.
“We’re not doing this, little wannabee Steve MacQueen,” I told him. He meowed back at me, angry and defiant.
Well, as angry and defiant as a one-pound fluffball could be.
“You have been fed,” I replied. “You have food, and a warm bed. What else could you possibly need?”
Then Merry meowed from the pen. With a big sigh, I scooped him up too and held them both. They were so much happier being held. I wasn’t sure if it was a comfort thing, a body heat thing, or if they thought I’d left them.
“I thought I’d at least get something done today before we had to do this,” I griped as I put them into the baby carrier and clipped us all into it.
Ro laughed. “You’re a sucker.”
“No. I’m a softy and a wonderful cat dad.” I walked over so she could peek down into the baby carrier. “Look at how cute they are.”
Two sets of little eyes peered back at us. Merry meowed.
Then the delivery lady appeared at the door with boxes of books and whatnot, and we got busy with that, and before we knew it, it was time to open the doors.
Gunter gave me a wave and came over, his breath steamy plumes. “Morning,” he said cheerfully. “How has your first week been? There’s been a steady stream of customers every day, and your opening weekend was huge.”
“Oh, it was wonderful,” I said. “Better than anything we could have hoped for. And I do expect it to quiet down now. Some slow and steady normalcy would be great.”
Then Bright poked his head up to say hello.
“Oh,” Gunter said with a laugh. “Why, hello there.” He gave him a gentle pat, then grinned at me. “I see you’ve adopted Evie’s baby carrier idea.”
“Well, this little tyrant escaped his playpen today,” I explained, then of course Bright decided he was climbing out and up my sweater to my neck. “Stop stepping on your brother—” I looked at Gunter. “It’s going to be a long day.”
He laughed. “He’s cute though.”
“I need to gremlin-proof their playpen.”
He smiled at that. “So, how are things with Deacon? We saw you walking off together the other night.”
Oh, at the Christmas light thing.
“Things are going well,” I said, trying to play it cool. I didn’t want to give too much away and feed into his Christmas Cupid theory. “Things are going slow and steady, which is good for us. He’s . . . he’s such a great guy.”
“He sends him poetry quotes,” Ro said, piping up out of nowhere. “There is much swooning.”
“I don’t swoon,” I replied, even though I absolutely did swoon, every single time. “Well, maybe a little bit. Anyway, it’s worthy of swooning. Swooning is merited.”
Ro grinned. “It’s just the cutest thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, yes, things are going well. Slow but well.”
Gunter grinned at me. “I’m glad to hear that.
So, a few of us guys are gonna get together for a pizza one night next week, probably Tuesday or Wednesday.
Just at the pizzeria, nothing fancy. And not too late because we’re all kinda busy these days, but we try to make the effort to catch up.
You’re more than welcome to join us. Deacon too, if you want? ”
Oh.
“Oh, that’s . . . that’s lovely, thank you! I’m not sure about Deacon, though I can ask him. We’re both short on time this week, between his work and mine here at the store, plus I have these two little monsters,” I said, trying to put Bright back in the pouch.
“I can look after them,” Ro said.
“I can’t expect you to,” I told her. “You already do enough for me.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“You need this, Win. Ask Deacon to go with you. Stop trying to limit yourself so considerably. You like him. He likes you. I know you’re worried about overwhelming him, but sometimes you just have to jump in with both feet. Have a little faith in the universe.”
“The universe?”