Chapter 12
Lizzie
“Lizzie! Phone for you!” Mom calls from the kitchen.
I’ve been sitting out on the back porch for the last couple of hours, curled into the hammock with the book I borrowed from Nate—This Present Darkness. The hammock sways lazily back and forth, the warm breeze brushing against my bare ankles.
After my conversation with Dad this morning, I dove into the book with full commitment.
I’m already at chapter ten and I’m hooked.
“Coming!” I call back, marking my page carefully.
I swing my legs over the side of the hammock and stand, the wooden porch boards warm under my feet, and head towards the kitchen.
I reach the kitchen doorway and mouth to Mom, Who is it?
“Nate!” she mouths back immediately, her smile stretching into something deeply mischievous.
Oh, fantastic. So the entire house is going to treat this like a spectator sport.
I take the phone from her, narrowing my eyes as she very deliberately leans against the counter to eavesdrop.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hi, Lizzie. I hear you got the breakfast basket okay?”
His voice is warm and deep. I lean my hip against the counter, trying not to look at Mom.
“I did. Thank you so much. It was a really special gift,” I say, meaning it. “I dug into it like crazy, but I had to share with my family too. There was no way I was finishing all that on my own.”
Mom beams.
“It was for you to enjoy,” he replies, “but I threw in the coffee especially for your dad. I thought he might appreciate it too.”
I glance over at Mom, impressed despite myself.
“I did, too. There was a touch of caramel to it and it was—” I pause, mimicking a chef’s kiss in the air, “chef’s kiss. Thank you.”
He chuckles, and the sound does something entirely unfair to my insides.
“I was wondering,” he continues, “if maybe you’d like to go out later today? Do you have any plans?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I actually don’t have any plans for today, surprisingly. I’ve just been digging into breakfast and reading.”
“Well, how about I pick you up around 2 p.m.? I’ve got a fun idea for us if you’re up for it.”
“As long as you’re not kidnapping me and taking me off somewhere far away, I’m good with that,” I giggle.
“Kidnapping wasn’t on my to-do list today, actually. Too many other things to get done.”
A sense of humor. I really like that.
“Perfect. I’ll see you at two?” I confirm.
“See you then. I look forward to it.”
“Me too,” I almost whisper.
Have my knees gone a little weak? Possibly. Hypothetically.
I hang up the phone and turn to find Mom leaning back against the counter, arms on the counter, grin firmly in place.
Before I can say anything, Gabby stumbles into the kitchen, hair completely disheveled, rubbing her eyes. She’s still in her pajama shorts and tank top, clearly dragged out of bed by the pull of coffee.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say.
“It’s the one day I can sleep in, leave me alone,” she mumbles.
I whistle. “Wow. And a grump too.”
“I get the caffeine equivalent of hangry without my first cup of coffee,” she mutters, reaching for the coffee tin.
“Okay, enjoy your coffee,” I say sweetly.
I love coffee, but I’m not dependent on it like she is. I can take it or leave it depending on my mood. Gabby, on the other hand, treats coffee like a non-negotiable personality trait.
Mom clears her throat dramatically.
“So,” she says, eyes glittering, “you’re going out on another date with Nate tonight?”
Gabby freezes mid-scoop, eyes bugging out. “Wait, wait—what?”
I turn to her slowly. “I thought you were too caffeine-deprived to join any conversation.”
“Well, exceptions must be made in times like this!” she says, suddenly very alert.
She hurriedly pours coffee into the filter like she wants caffeine desperately but also needs full attention on this conversation.
“I didn’t even get to hear about last night’s date, and now you’re going on another one tonight? !”
“We had a good night,” I say with a shrug, deliberately casual.
Inside, my thoughts are still anything but casual.
“A good night?” Gabby repeats with a glare, like she cannot believe that’s all I’m offering.
“Your sister had a very good night, Gabs,” Mom says, pumping her eyebrows.
“It was nice,” I insist. “I’m happy to see what tonight is like with him.”
“Okay, but ‘nice’ is not what I’m looking for, Lizzie Bell!” Gabby practically shouts.
Mom presses her lips together to hold in laughter. “I think we should reconvene once your sister has had coffee.”
“I think so too,” I say, fully laughing now.
“Whatever,” Gabby grumbles, but she’s already hovering near the machine.
Mom and I escape to the greenhouse living room, settling onto the wicker sofas surrounded by greenery. Sunlight pours in through the tall colonial windows, turning the leaves translucent and glowing.
It gives me a moment to process things with Mom.
“So,” Mom says gently, eyebrows raised, “what did you really think about him?”
I pick at a loose thread on the cushion before answering.
“There were lots of qualities he showed last night that were on my list. I think it’s worth—at the very least—going on another date today.” I pause, then add, “The breakfast basket was a really special touch too.”
She nods slowly. “I saw your dad deliver it and thought it was a good time for you two to talk. But I wanted to tell you what I think of Nate as well.”
I gesture for her to continue.
“He’s had a rough go of it recently. It hasn’t been easy for him. But what we’ve seen over the past couple of years is a man who genuinely loves God. He’s carried himself well through it all.” She smiles softly. “He’s worth his salt, as my mother would say.”
I nod. I saw glimpses of that last night too.
“I saw some of that yesterday.”
“So, you know your father approves,” she continues. “And I wanted you to know that I do too.” She pauses, then adds with a small grin, “Don’t let what we think influence you. Unless it’s to influence you to at least give him a chance.”
I laugh. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your input. You know I always value your opinion.”
We end up talking for a while after that—about how she and Dad met and the sweet beginnings of their love story.
Gabby eventually joins us, now fully caffeinated and emotionally invested, and Lara wanders in not long after.
There’s laughter echoing around the room, overlapping stories, and the comfortable chaos that only exists in a house full of siblings.
It hits me all over again how special this is. Being here. Being with them.
One point for Brazil.
Let’s see how the tally ends. Brazil or Belgium?
I’m standing in my closet later, scanning my options, when my eyes land on the perfect outfit: a red linen co-ord with a wavy orange stripe down the side. It feels summery and just like me.
The pants are flowy enough for the heat but still elegant, and the matching top pulls it all together effortlessly. Nate didn’t say what we’d be doing, so versatility is key.
I lay the outfit neatly on my bed and head to my vanity, pulling out my makeup bag. Light brown eyeshadow, maybe. And a red lipstick to match the set. Bold, but not too bold.
Gabby bursts in before I can decide.
“Well, hello, sis-who-happens-to-have-a-second-date-tonight-and-I-know-nothing-about-it!” she announces dramatically.
I laugh. “Nate’s nice. You were right. He is my type.” I shrug, trying to sound breezy.
“Okay… so now what?” She sits cross-legged on my bed, watching me.
“Well, I’m going on a date tonight and then we’ll see where things go from there. I’m still leaving in two weeks.”
She hesitates. “Do you think you might stay instead?” she says softly.
I turn to face her fully. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Well, duh!” She grins. “Why would I not want my best friend slash sister living near me again?”
I roll my eyes affectionately. “Obviously. But seriously.”
She softens. “I think it’s so awesome you’ve had all these adventures in Europe. I just… I’d really love you to be here. Not miss everything with us as a family.”
Another point for Brazil.
I really need to start listing Belgium’s points soon before this becomes unfair.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m set on staying in Belgium forever,” I admit. “I don’t know what the future holds. I just love Europe so much. I love that I have this opportunity right now. But I want to stay present. Let’s just see how this date goes.”
“And whether it’ll rewrite your entire brain chemistry and you’ll stay here!” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
I laugh. “Or that.”
I finish getting ready and swipe on the red lipstick, completing the look.
The doorbell rings just as Pimenta squawks loudly, “Lizzie Bell, the doorbell!”
“How do you even know that?!” I shout back, amazed.
I open the front door and there he is.
Nate stands on the porch in a linen co-ord and brown boat shoes, looking effortlessly stylish and perfectly suited to the sunny afternoon.
“Hi, Lizzie,” he says, stepping forward and greeting me with the Brazilian kiss on the cheek.
But somehow, the simple greeting feels charged, like there’s an invisible current humming just beneath the surface.
“Hi, Nate,” I reply, my voice coming out slightly breathier than intended.
“Should we go?” he asks, gesturing toward his car.
“I’m ready,” I say, closing the door behind me.
“You look beautiful,” he adds as we walk down the steps.
I’m not usually a blusher, but I definitely feel warmth rise to my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I manage.
He opens the car door for me, and I think—dangerously—that I could get used to this level of gentlemanly treatment very quickly.
I slide into the seat, and he circles around to the driver’s side. When he reverses, one hand on the back of my seat, I stare out the window very intently, trying not to swoon over something as ridiculous as a man backing out of a driveway. What is it about that that is so attractive?
It has been two minutes. Two minutes, Lizzie. Get a grip.
What is it about him that feels like it could rewrite my brain chemistry?