Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kate
I had a date.
An actual date.
Not a "Let's hang out," kind of date. A "I want to take you to dinner" date.
I wasn’t sure I even believed those existed anymore. All that old-fashioned gestures seemed to go out the window, replaced with coffee dates and casual sex that might eventually turn into a relationship.
I was more excited than was probably wise, building everything up in my head, fueled, no doubt, by consuming one too many romcoms and romance novels.
But, I figured, if this ended up in crushing disappointment, at least I had one glorious evening to remember. That was something I wouldn't have seen in the cards for me.
I hadn't told my mom.
It wasn't like me to keep things from her, but I just, I don't know, I guess I wanted to just go with the flow for once, not over-analyze it.
History had told me, with Rush, overthinking things had only led to upset.
Meanwhile, just showing up, just taking chances, just letting things progress naturally had led to all kinds of wonderful things.
Had I been given even five minutes to think about the phone sex in the office, it never would have happened.
My mind, I was beginning to truly understand, wasn't always my ally. Sure, it looked out for me, tried to protect me from things. But sometimes, the things that held risk brought the biggest rewards. I needed to remember that, put some faith to rest in that.
So I didn't share the news with anyone but Fee who decided that none of her dresses would work, and planned for us to have a shopping date.
It sounded a bit like hell, to be perfectly honest, but this was Fiona we were talking about. She made everything a little more fun, a little more exciting.
As it turned out, it was.
She brought coffee and took me to some upscale boutique, Luxe, that was empty save for another set of shoppers, making me a little more comfortable with the event as Fiona breezed around the place, grabbing half the dresses off the racks, then shoving me into one of the dressing rooms, blasting music on her phone as I came out to show her each look.
It was just like one of the movies I hated as a teenager because those experiences had never been mine, and I couldn't help but feel thankful to Fee for giving me the experience. Even if it was several years late.
"Oh, oh my God. Yes," she said when I came out with the second-to-last dress on. "That is the one. Kenz?" she called out to the woman who, apparently, owned the store. "Yes, right?" she asked.
"That's the one," Kenzi agreed. "I'll go pick out some accessories," she added, giving me a smile before rushing off.
"Really?" I asked, smoothing my hands over the belly of it, turning to look in the mirror again. "Aren't I supposed to wear a little black dress?” I asked, trying to decide how I felt about the deep red wine color.
"Sure. If you have no imagination. Trust me, this is the one."
And she would know better than me.
It wasn't overly fancy, which I was thankful for. It was a simple v-neck bodice A-line dress with a cold shoulder and a hemline that was neither demure nor risqué, but just the right amount of sexy.
"This will work with flats?" I pressed, giving her a raised brow. I still had a blister on my heel from those booties she'd put me in.
To that, she and the Kenzi woman shared exasperated looks before Fiona looked back at me. "Yeah. It'll be fine," she relented. "Come on, change back into your normal clothes. Let's go stuff our faces."
With that, we did.
So I had the dress.
And the shoes.
And the understated accessories.
I spent all of Monday nervous about the date, but in a good way.
I'm not sure I knew a good kind of nervousness existed before.
But it did. Yes, I stressed about what I might say, if there would be awkward silences, or if I spilled food all over myself.
But more than that, I was eager for the unknown, for learning more about Rush.
And, you know, maybe to feel his hands on me again.
God, that had been just... other-level hot. I'd never experienced anything like that before.
I wanted more.
Thanks to Rush's communication skills, there was no insecurity about him wanting me back. He told me he did. I could take him at his word about it.
Rush freaking Rivers wanted me.
The thrill that moved through my system at that had made me full-stop between my bathroom and my bedroom, realizing that this was what confidence must have felt like, what power felt like.
It was heady, intoxicating. I could see how people easily became addicted to it, went overboard with it. I wasn't exactly at risk of that, but it was nice to feel even a small twinge of it for a change.
As planned, Fiona showed up an hour before Rush was supposed to pick me up, bringing with her a much smaller makeup bag than the last time after I'd insisted I wanted something a little less dramatic this time.
In the end, Fiona was gone, and I was standing alone in my kitchen, hand pressed to my belly where anticipation was bubbling up while I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then, ten minutes early, he was there.
"You're early," I told him, giving him a smile as I opened the door.
"You're beautiful," he said, almost sounding a little... sad about that? But that didn't make any sense.
He was dressed up too, in a black suit with a charcoal shirt underneath. No tie, and the top two buttons were undone, giving him a less polished, more bad-boy appearance that made me almost suggest we skip dinner entirely, and head into my place.
I'd cleaned it before work that morning, changing the sheets, tucking anything embarrassing away, setting a scene in case he was right and we ended up back at one of our places.
"Do you need to grab anything? Purse? Sweater?" he prompted, hungry eyes roaming over me one more time, making me feel warm all over.
"Fee would kill me if I covered this dress with one of my sweaters," I told him, reaching for one of the pretty wraps she'd picked out for me at the shop. "This will have to do."
"That's practically a piece of a silk bathrobe," he objected, shaking his head.
"It'll be okay," I insisted. "You have heat in the car," I added.
With that, his hand pressed into my lower back, making my belly wobble happily as he led me down the stairs and through the front doors, walking me toward his car—a black sports car with square features, the kind of car that likely got him pulled over all the time.
"What's the matter?” Rush asked, sliding into his seat, looking over at me.
"There's not a speck of dirt... anywhere," I said, looking in the corners of the center console, sure I would find a speck of dust wedged in there. But nope.
"I can be a little anal about my car," he admitted, pushing the start, making it rumble to life. "I have reasons," he added, tone getting a little guarded, which felt wrong for him. "We'll get into that later," he assured me, reading the question on my face.
With that, he pulled out of his spot, driving out of my lot.
At the stop sign that led to the main street, though, his free hand moved out, grabbing my thigh just under the hem of my skirt, staying there until he needed to shift, but going right back again.
It was a chaste touch, by almost anyone's standards, but my heart skipped at it, realizing no one had ever touched me just because they wanted to touch me before, without any expectations, without it leading to something else.
It was a somewhat possessive gesture that I was eating up, leaving me disappointed when we finally pulled up to the restaurant, and his hand slid away so he could get out of the car, getting to my side before I could reach for my own handle.
Famiglia was a staple in this town, a big building set on pillars over the ocean with a large wrap-around deck for amazing views during the good weather. Even in the chilly fall, there were a few souls gathered there, stubbornly holding onto the disappearing traces of summer.
The stairs were slippery, even under my ballet flats with their grippy soles, but Rush was every bit the gentleman, reaching out to grab my hip, hauling me against his much more solid body as we made our way up the steep steps to the front doors.
Famiglia was almost exactly how I remembered it. Upscale, a little dim to give it the appearance of intimacy without stepping over into creepy territory.
"Rush Rivers," Rush said when we got up to the hostess stand.
I don't know why—though I planned to ask- but at that name, the hostess immediately straightened, sent him a warmer smile, grabbing menus out of the side pocket on her stand. "Right this way, Mr. Rivers," she said, leading us down the line of tables toward the back.
I'd never been able to sit in the booths in the back. They were the most sought-after seats in the place, given the way the sides curved inward, almost making little rooms for the diners sitting there, giving them privacy.
"I figure you’d prefer a booth," Rush said, reading the situation perfectly. "More private," he added, giving me a smile.
"Okay, spill," I demanded, lips curving up. "You're in the mafia or something, aren’t you?" I teased.
“Or something," he grumbled under his breath, making my stomach tense.
"Wait... what?"
"We'll get into that, baby," he promised. "But pick out a drink first," he told me, pressing my menu open.
"I've never been much of a drinker," I admitted. "I kind of only like the super girly things full of sugar. And they're embarrassing to order."
"Like this apple drink thing?" he asked, pointing toward it on the menu, making me look it over.
"Exactly like that."
"Two of the girly apple drinks," he told the server after her greeting, getting a smile from her before she moved off to the bar. "You don't have to be embarrassed about what you like, Katie. And the girly drinks are usually pretty bitchin'."
"Do people still say 'bitchin'?" I teased, getting a wink from him.
We got our drinks and ordered our food, both of us falling into the awkward silence I'd been dreading."
"Rush—“