4. Landon #3
We shared the rest slowly while conversation wandered wherever it wanted.
Childhood summers. Bad recipes. Books we’d quit halfway through because life was too short to keep negotiating with an author who had lost us.
Somewhere in the middle, Nolani told me she reread favorites when life got heavy because knowing how something ended allowed her to enjoy the middle differently.
I filed that away.
By the time the check came, most of the lunch crowd had cleared out.
Nolani reached for her purse.
I put my card over the bill. “I asked you to lunch.”
“And I accepted lunch, not financial custody.”
I almost laughed. “Paying for your snapper ain’t financial custody.”
“I can pay my half.”
“I know.” She waited. I met her eyes. “Capability don’t cancel consideration, Nolani. I know you can pay. I still want to.”
Her hand stayed on the purse for another second before she released it.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
And we moved on.
No debate to establish she was independent. I already knew that. No victory lap because she let me pay. She’d accepted something I offered.
That was it.
I liked how simple it could be when nobody turned care into a power struggle.
We left Willow Point Bistro and followed the waterfront without either of us officially suggesting an extension to lunch. Neither of us headed toward a parking lot either, so I considered continued participation established.
The afternoon had cooled enough for the breeze to actually help. Dockhands called across slips, boats eased back into the marina, and gulls circled overhead like they had outstanding invoices to collect.
A bookseller had set up paperbacks and handmade journals beneath a striped canopy near the pier. Nolani changed direction without breaking conversation and immediately started running her fingers over embossed covers.
I followed.
She picked up a slim poetry collection.
“You read poetry?”
“I read everything.”
“That ain’t an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting until I know whether you judge people by their bookshelves.”
“I absolutely judge people by their bookshelves.”
She looked over the book. “See? This is why I’m protecting myself.”
“I allow appeals.”
“How generous.”
“Due process matters.”
She bought the poetry collection and tucked it into the bag with the novel she’d brought to lunch. We kept walking until the marina opened into wider water and stopped near the railing.
For a while, we didn’t say anything.
I didn’t mind it.
Nolani leaned against the railing, curls moving across her cheek when the wind picked up. Her hands stayed relaxed against the wood.
No pendant.
I noticed because of course I did.
I also left it alone because I was learning something important about her. Nolani didn’t need every internal shift narrated back to her like I was providing live analytics.
“You ever have days like this at home?”
“Days where nobody needs anything from me?”
“That answer told on you.”
A small smile appeared. “I’m trying to learn.”
“Same.”
She looked toward me.
For a second, it felt like we were both standing inside the same realization.
I resisted the urge to write a dissertation about it.
Growth.
We stayed there until the sun dropped lower, and the wind picked up off the water. Eventually, Nolani checked the time.
“I should get back before Nana sends Mr. Calvin to find me.”
“The cornmeal man?”
She laughed. “The very one.”
We started toward the parking lot at a pace that was objectively slower than necessary.
I noticed that too.
Kept that observation internal.
When we reached her car, I stopped beside the driver’s door. Yesterday, I had relied on probability. Today, I believed in direct methodology.
“May I have your number, Nolani?”
She turned toward me. “Why?”
“Because I enjoyed you. I want to see you again, and I’m not interested in spending tomorrow walking around Willow Run hoping geography handles my business for me.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
I didn’t fill the silence.
Then she held out her hand.
“Give me your phone.”
I unlocked it and passed it over.
She typed in her number, saved her name, and handed it back.
I called immediately.
Her phone rang from inside her purse.
Nolani stared at me. “You checking whether I gave you the right number?”
“I respect verification.”
“You have trust issues.”
“I have coaching experience.”
She laughed and pulled out her phone to save mine.
I watched her thumb move across the screen.
“What you doing tomorrow?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Let me show you Self Springs.”
One eyebrow rose. “You couldn’t find the marina yesterday.”
“That was an away game.”
Her laugh came quick. “Now geography has home-field advantage?”
“Exactly.”
“What would we do?”
“Let me plan it.”
“You’re very confident I’m saying yes.”
“I’m confident enough to ask. Your answer’s still yours.”
She studied me for another second, then she opened the car door. “Text me the time, Coach.”
I smiled. “That a yes?”
“That’s permission to send a text. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Aight.”
Nolani climbed inside.
I stepped back from the door. “Drive safe, Hershey.”
She lowered the window. “Don’t abuse that nickname now that you have my number.”
“I believe in responsible usage.”
“That answer does not reassure me.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
Her laugh followed.
I liked that too.
“Get home safe, Nolani.”
“I will.”
I stood there while she pulled away, but this time, I wasn’t watching possibility leave with no way to reach it again.
Her number was in my phone.
I had a date to plan.
And tomorrow, I’d get to show Hershey my city.
Yeah.
Saturday had turned out pretty damn good.