41. Forty-One
Forty-One
Kyla
Three Weeks Later
Grace
Are you wearing the yellow sundress? Please tell me you’re not wearing the yellow sundress.
Me
I’m not wearing the yellow sundress. I’m wearing a white one.
Grace
White? I thought we said the vow renewal would come much, much later. I still need to get out there, you know.
Me
It’s just a date, Grace. Not a wedding.
Grace
Hey, how was I supposed to know? You are married to the man. Mrs. Hartwell.
Me
Damn straight.
Grace
Where is he taking you?
Me
He’s already there, I’m meeting him at The Steel.
A FaceTime call came through instead of a text. I propped my phone up against the counter and answered, working on my mascara.
“Hey—”
“What do you mean he’s already there? He’s supposed to pick you up and talk to your dad and take you to a movie and dinner. But instead he’s meeting you at the bar?” Grace shouted, her voice echoing in the bathroom.
I laughed. “It’s our first date, and my dad is dead so . . .”
“Your mom then.”
“You already know how that conversation went.”
It went very well actually. Everything since coming home had gone well.
Rhett swooped me up into his arms after he proposed, and promised to never let me go. He kissed me, over and over until I reminded him we had forever to explore each other. We headed back to my apartment after settling Buckle and talked. We talked about everything that had happened during the time we were apart. I told him about my mother, and how I was slowly mending my relationship with her. We called her—putting her on speaker phone—and Rhett smiled when he invited her out for Thanksgiving dinner. I was shocked, but grateful at the same time. I told him what happened with David, and how that was the final straw I needed to take what was mine. Even my therapist agreed with me.
And when I told him I still had a while in my dingy apartment, and that I wanted to finish the time with Ben before his school year started, he was supportive and instantly jumped at the chance to stay in Washington with me. He found a temporary stable for Buckle, and we lived together for a few weeks in my apartment, sleeping and making love in my small twin-sized bed. We went to rodeos, wandered bookstores and flea markets, enjoying every second with each other before we returned to Hartwell Hills.
We agreed to stay married because we wanted to—it just felt right. But we decided we would take it slower. We would date.
Tonight.
Our first real date since meeting him.
“I know, I know, your mom is on Team Rhett now— ”
“Well, I wouldn’t say she’s one hundred percent on Team Rhett, but she’s getting there. Thanksgiving is going to be interesting to say the least.” I closed my mascara and grabbed my brush, running it through my hair. “But this date is going to be perfect. I can just feel it.”
“Okay, I’ll play along. What are you doing?”
“We’re going to the bar where we first met.”
“Oooo . . .” she cooed. “Recreating the first night, huh?”
I blushed. “Kind of, but different this time. We won’t be getting drunk or having a one-night stand.”
“But you will be coming home to have sex, right?”
The heat rose again, and I could tell the blush got deeper on my cheeks. “Oh yeah, but he’s planned the night. All I know is I’m supposed to go up to the bar and order a rum and Dr. Pepper. He said he’d find me.”
Grace sighed. “You and your cowboy. Hey, Kyla?”
I hummed in response, dropping the brush to look at her.
“I’m glad you stayed, I’m glad you found you.”
I smiled, my heart practically bursting with her words. I found me. “Me too.”
I walked into the bar, the country music crooning as I made my way to the bar top. Jason, the bartender who was here the night I first came here, smiled at me.
“Hey, Mrs. Hartwell, what can I get you? ”
I smiled. I loved when people called me Mrs. Hartwell. I loved it even more when Rhett called me that. He had tried to slip more nicknames into the mix, but he always landed on Mrs. Hartwell.
“Rum and Dr. Pepper, please.”
“You got it.” Jason winked and turned, looking off to the corner and giving a slight nod.
I followed where his gaze went and saw my husband sitting at a table with his brother and cousin, wearing a white t-shirt underneath a blue button-down shirt that was open, revealing the gold belt buckle on his hips. A brown cowboy hat sat upon his head, his brown hair most definitely perfectly disheveled underneath. I couldn’t wait to run my fingers through it tonight, it had gotten longer—perfect to pull on. Our eyes met for a millisecond right before Jason placed my drink in front of me.
I took a sip and waited, knowing he was going to approach me at any minute. The butterflies grew in my stomach, and I waited and watched. He seemed like he was deep in conversation with Lachlan, even though every few seconds his eyes would flick to me. He was stunning, and I desperately wanted him to come over and wrap me in his arms and kiss me until I couldn’t breathe.
Instead, I sat here alone, drinking my Rum and Dr. Pepper, the tension and butterflies growing stronger every passing minute.
I sighed, taking another sip, realizing that my drink was almost gone. I had maybe one more gulp—one more pull—before I would get up and ask him if he wanted to dance. A glass hit the table with a thud and then I heard the most smooth, soothing voice hit my ear, and I melted.
“Hey, girl. What’cha drinkin?”