Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“ W hat time is your date supposed to pick you up?” Fern asks, while passing by my doorway. She stops and sticks her head in my room when I don’t answer her right away.
My makeup is done, my hair is done, but I still can’t decide what sweater to wear. “He should be here in a few minutes, which doesn’t leave me much time to figure out my outfit.”
“What are you trying to decide between?”
I hold up two sweaters. One’s a formfitting V-neck and the other is a looser turtleneck sweater. “I’ve narrowed it down to these two.”
Fern takes in my high-waisted, wide-legged jeans and shakes her head. “I don’t like any of those choices for the jeans you’re wearing. Just give me a second. I have something that I think will work for you,” she says, then vacates my room.
I stand there in my bra and jeans, waiting for her to come back. She’s gone for a while, and I check my phone for the time because any moment now, Wesley is going to be knocking on the door.
“Sorry, it took me a while to find it.” Fern holds up the most gorgeous cream-colored wrap cardigan with an adorable tie at the waist. “When I saw your jeans, I knew exactly what to pair with them.”
I take the sweater from her and run my hand along one of the sleeves, feeling the buttery soft texture on my fingers. This sweater not only looks luxurious, but feels that way too. “Are you sure? You’re not worried I’m going to ruin it like I did your favorite blouse?”
Fern flinches like she can still remember the loss of her blouse. It was one she’d left at the house for safekeeping when she went to college. I wore it to school one day, fully expecting to have it back in her closet by the end of the day. She didn’t come home that often, so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. What I didn’t count on was Fern being at the house when I got home from school. She’d come over to pick up our dad for a baseball game they were going to that evening. I had to act fast. I stripped off the blouse (thank goodness I had a shirt on underneath) and shoved it in my backpack. I didn’t know there was a leaking pen at the bottom of my backpack—a leaking pen that got ink all over Fern’s blouse. Mom and I tried washing it, but no amount of stain remover was getting out that ink stain. Eventually, I had to fess up and pay Fern for a new blouse. She took the money, but that blouse was vintage and one she’d thrifted, so she was never able to find a replacement.
“I’m not worried,” Fern says, casting one last glance toward her sweater like she might never see it again.
“I promise I’ll have it back to you tonight in one piece with no stains.” And I fully intend on keeping that promise. I slip on the sweater and look in the mirror. Fern’s right. This sweater looks amazing with these jeans. I do a little twirl in the mirror and fluff up my hair, then grab my phone off the bed where there’s a text on the screen from Wesley. “He’s here,” I say to her.
“Do you want me to get the door, or are you ready to go?”
“What do you think? Do you think I need to do anything else?”
“I think you look perfect.”
“Then I’ll meet him at the door.” I head to the front of the house, and when Wesley knocks on the door, I wait a few seconds before opening it. I don’t want to seem too eager to see him.
“Good evening, Dahlia,” Wesley says once I open the door. His gaze slides over my body and stops right at the curve of my waist where that little tie on the sweater is. It’s nice that even he notices how well it hugs my body. “Are you ready to go, or do you still need some time?”
“I’m all set,” I say with my phone in hand. I decided to use my all-in-one phone case again this evening. Wesley lets me lead the way down the steps and when we reach his car, some two-door sporty little number, he gets the door for me.
Now that we’re in the confines of his car and there’s nothing else to distract me, I can fully appreciate the fine specimen sitting next to me. Wesley has opted for dark-wash jeans and a button-down shirt that’s untucked with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Neither of us has on a coat tonight, which is risky considering it’s very chilly and rainy outside today. I’m hoping that my time outside is limited to just the time it takes to get into the restaurant because I’m not sure my hair will hold up for much longer than that.
“Where are we headed tonight?” I ask. While Wesley and I had the time and day settled for our date, he never said where we’re going to eat. Although, I’m not sure I’d know of it if he told me. I don’t have a lot of knowledge about the restaurants around here since I didn’t frequent many growing up. And as an adult, I’ve always been too poor to be able to go out to some of the finer establishments.
“I’m taking you to a restaurant near Shilshole Bay. It’s called Troy’s Boathouse. Have you heard of it?” While we’re sitting at a traffic light, he glances my way.
I shake my head. “No, sorry, I haven’t.”
“I’ve been there a few times, but only for special occasions. The food has always been phenomenal.”
“Special occasions? Am I underdressed for this place?”
His gaze does a slow perusal over my body, and a grin spreads across his lips. “Relax. You’re dressed just fine. It’s a special occasion place, but not an uptight place. You’ll see once we get there.”
It wouldn’t surprise me if this place ends up being way fancier than he’s letting on. Everything about Wesley is upscale. From his designer glasses, to the cologne he’s wearing, to this sports car he’s driving, he screams high-end.
But he’s right. When we pull up to the restaurant, it looks very unassuming from the exterior. In the low light of the night sky, the exterior of the building looks almost a washed-out gray. There’s a big wraparound deck surrounding the building, and I’m guessing that when the weather is nicer, it’s filled with people.
Wesley parks the car, then comes around the side of the car to get my door for me. He holds out his hand for mine, and I place my hand into his warm, sure grip. His skin is a little rough, but it doesn’t put me off. He’s a doctor, so I imagine his hands are probably in gloves most of the day. That would dry anyone’s skin out.
As we walk hand-in-hand up the wooden steps to the door, I hear a gentle lapping of water against the pilings of the dock that extends out past the restaurant. If I had known we were coming to a waterfront restaurant, I would’ve requested an earlier time so we could appreciate the view. But instead, the view of the guy next to me will have to suffice.
Wesley gets the door for me and the hostess leads us to a table right in front of a bank of windows. All the tables surrounding us are taken, which is to be expected given that it’s a Saturday night. I look down at the menu in front of me, but outside on the water, lights from a passing boat steal my attention away. I watch as it passes, not even seeing the server that approaches our table.
“What can I get the two of you to drink this evening?” the server asks.
Wesley looks at me to go first. I glance down at the beverage menu and holy shit! All of these mixed drinks are expensive. Twenty dollars for a cocktail? My eyes quickly scan over the wines and it’s not much better on that side. Fifteen bucks for a glass of wine? These prices are absolutely bonkers. Where are the normal drinks? Would it be too lowly of me to order a soda?
Finally, my eyes alight on the cheap drinks section. “I’ll have a hard seltzer, please,” I say with conviction, as though that was my choice all along. At six dollars per drink, it’s a price that’s more in line with what I’m willing to pay—and what I’m willing to have someone spend on me.
“I’ll have a glass of your pinot noir,” Wesley says, then collects my drinks menu from me and hands it to the server.
“I hope I didn’t take too long to order,” I say once the server is out of earshot. “The prices kind of threw me for a loop.”
Wesley smiles. “Don’t worry about the prices tonight. It’s my treat.”
“I guess I’m so used to going out with my friends where we try to have a good time, but keep it within our financial limits.”
“Tonight’s a special evening, and I want to make sure you enjoy it to the fullest, so order without hesitation.”
My gaze locks onto his, and he seems sincere. He’s not going to stick me with the bill once all is said and done, which actually happened to me once. I went out on a date with a guy in high school, and he’d said he was paying for everything, so I was determined to treat myself. I ordered soda instead of water, steak instead of a burger like I normally would, and even ordered dessert. When the bill came, he claimed he forgot his card at home, forcing me to pay for everything. I’m lucky there was enough money in my account to cover the total because it wasn’t cheap.
The server comes back with our drinks and takes our entrée order. I order the house-made tagliatelle with peas and mushrooms, not because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, because it sounded delicious. Wesley orders himself the halibut. A small basket of bread and butter is dropped off at our table, and I help myself to a roll with some butter.
“So, Dahlia, tell me about yourself,” Wesley says while spreading some butter on a roll.
“What do you want to know?”
“Did you grow up here, or are you a transplant?”
“I was born here, and my parents still live here. They haven’t left for Arizona, or someplace else that’s warm like most people do once they hit retirement. What about you?”
“I grew up in Kirkland, and my parents left as soon as they could. They sold our family home a long time ago, but they keep a small condo here for the summer when the weather is more pleasant.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“I do. I have a brother, but he’s a lawyer down in San Francisco.”
“So you’re here by yourself?”
“Yeah, but we were never a super close family to begin with. My dad was a doctor and worked long hours, and my mom kept herself busy with her socialite friends.”
That seems kind of sad, and such a far cry from how I grew up. My mother was the constant in the household, and my dad was always home for dinner. And while I may not have always appreciated my sister, I enjoy having her close by and couldn’t imagine it any other way.
“What about you? Do you have siblings?” he asks me.
“I have a sister, Fern. She and I live together. I don’t know for how long though. She’s engaged, and I imagine that she and her fiancé will probably want a place of their own someday.”
Wesley tilts his head. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Your name is Dahlia, and your sister’s name is Fern? Is there any reason why the two of you were named after plants?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve asked my mother about it multiple times, and she said that she just wanted to name us something different than the normal names that people get.”
“Did you get made fun of in school?”
“Not me, but Fern did. I don’t know why though, especially since she had a classmate named Atreyu.”
“You mean like The NeverEnding Story ?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why that kid didn’t get his ass kicked.”
Wesley laughs. “All the kids in my school had boring names. The weirdest name in my school was someone who was the fifth of his name, which wasn’t a big deal on its own. But this kid used to insist that people add the suffix when stating his name in full. He’d even correct you if you accidentally left it off. He grew up to be one of those ambulance-chasing lawyers, and I’m pretty sure he’s still a dick.”
I let out a chuckle at his description. “What school did you go to?”
Wesley rattles off the name of the most prestigious private school in the area, a place that costs as much, if not more than my entire college tuition. It’s clear to me that Wesley and I came from very different upbringings, and while I shouldn’t let that get in the way of me enjoying the evening, I can’t help but feel inferior. I didn’t grow up having the latest and greatest everything, and while my parents provided adequately enough, there were times when money was tight. Something tells me that even now, Wesley doesn’t have to worry about having enough money to make it through until the next payday.
Luckily, I’m spared from having to hear more about Wesley’s privileged childhood because our food arrives. I glance down at the beautifully plated food before me, but all I see is opulence. I stab my fork into the pasta and twirl the noodles around the tines. Wesley is already two bites into his dinner, and I’m still over here twirling away.
He must pick up on my sudden change in demeanor because he sets his fork down. “What’s wrong? You haven’t taken a bite yet. Is your pasta not what you thought it was going to be? If so, we can get you something else.”
And what a waste of food that would be. If my father were here, he would cringe at the suggestion. Just to show that everything is all right, I take a bite of pasta, but it gets stuck like a paste in my throat and I have to take a sip of water just to get it down. “No, the pasta is fine.”
“Then what is it? I thought everything was going well until we started talking about school.”
I decide right then and there that the only way to salvage this evening is to be honest and upfront with Wesley. “I’m realizing that you and I had completely different upbringings, and even now we’re miles apart when it comes to our situations. You’re a doctor who probably never has to worry about money, and I feel that at times, that’s all I worry about. I’m not exactly making a killing as a receptionist.”
“I know that I had a different upbringing than most people, and the time I spent in school affords me a lifestyle some will never achieve. But I don’t see myself as better than anyone, and I can tell you that money never factored into my decision to ask you out tonight.”
“Then why did you ask me out?”
“Because I wanted to get to know you better, and I think you’re beautiful.”
I can’t help the grin that refuses to be erased. “Yeah? You really think that?”
Wesley smiles back at me. “Yes, I do. Ever since I saw you at the seminar, I wanted to get to know you better. In fact, I tried looking for you later that evening, but couldn’t find you.”
“ You were looking for me ?”
“Yes, I searched for you for quite a while. At least I remembered where you said you worked so I could find you.”
I can’t believe Wesley went through all that trouble to find me. “I wasn’t feeling well that evening, so I left early,” I say, since I can’t exactly tell him the real reason I left.
“It’s okay. I found you eventually. Now, do you want to stay, or should I take you home? If you’re not having a good time, I don’t want to keep you here.”
He’s right. I shouldn’t let my own insecurities get in the way of our evening. “I want to stay.”
For the rest of the evening, Wesley and I can’t stop talking to one another. Eventually, our dinner plates get cleared away, dessert plates come and go, and glasses empty only to be refilled, then emptied again.
As we leave the restaurant, he holds my hand in his and I’m so taken by the ambiance of the evening, I plant a small kiss on his cheek before getting into his car. We’re already planning our next date as he pulls up to my place, and have arranged to get together next weekend by the time he reaches my door. We stand there, both of us staring intently at one another when he makes the move first. He leans in and presses his lips against mine while his arm wraps around my waist. I deepen the kiss as his hand slips under my sweater and brushes against my skin. I don’t mind the contact. In fact, it sends a shiver down my spine, and I press my body harder against his. We’re locked for a few moments in this embrace, his hand never straying from my waist. I pull away first, not wanting things to get too out of hand out here on the porch, and plant another small kiss on his lips.
“I had a nice time tonight. Thanks for taking me out,” I say, removing his hand from my waist and holding it in mine.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you next weekend.”