Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FIRSTS
CAMDEN
The idea hits me in the middle of prep at Elm & Echo. One second I’m whisking together a sauce, the next I’m staring out the kitchen window, thinking about Juju. Grandma Donna is right. Kisses are easy. Dates take intention. And I want this to mean something.
So the next morning, I duck into The Kitty-Corner Cafe before work. The bell above the door jingles, but otherwise, it’s quiet in there––I chose a time when I hoped it would be. Juju’s behind the counter and looks surprised to see me.
“Hey,” she says, smiling at me.
I’ll never get tired of that.
“I have a question,” I say, lowering my voice as I lean across the counter. “Would you go on a date with me tomorrow night? I know it’s Valentine’s Day, so no problem if that’s too much for you.”
Her grin grows, her eyes lighting up. “I guess I could handle that.”
Someone walks in behind me, so I straighten, but I whisper, “I really want to kiss you right now, but I’ll save it for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she says softly.
The next day, I put my plan into motion.
Grandma Donna’s been my co-conspirator, insisting she knows the exact balance of “romantic but practical.” She helps me load up a picnic basket she dug out of storage, complete with checkered napkins.
I make roasted chicken sandwiches on the fresh rolls Grandma Nancy made, snuck to me by Grandma Donna, and we pack chips and cheese and crackers and nuts and fruit and anything else I can think of that will still be good after a little drive.
I even tuck in a little container of the chocolate mousse I once overheard Juju say she was unable to resist. Grandma Donna throws in some cookies and peppermint candies.
I hold up the hand- and foot-warmers I’m bringing, and Grandma Donna nods her approval.
“Good. We don’t want our girl getting cold,” she says. “It’s harder to feel the romance when you’re too chilly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, laughing.
By the time I arrive at The Kitty-Corner to pick Juju up, I’m buzzing with nerves. I told her only to dress warmly, and she listened. She’s in her thickest coat, scarf looped around her neck. She looks…adorable.
I tell her so, and I add “And prepared to climb El Capitan” as I hop out to open the passenger door.
“Well, you said warm,” she says.
I’d hoped she wouldn’t glance in the back seat, and she doesn’t. It helps that it’s already getting dark.
“What are you up to, Whitman?” she asks.
“Thought I’d spend this Valentine’s Day with the woman I’m hoping is my valentine.”
I look at her once we’re driving, and she’s staring back at me with an unreadable expression.
“I wasn’t sure you were the kind to celebrate Valentine’s Day,” she says.
“I haven’t been in the past.”
“But you want to this year…”
“You make me want to, yes, but I’d spend any day with you.”
Her lips lift slightly. I hate to look away but hurry to keep my eyes on the road.
Playfully, I ask, “And don’t you want to spend the day with me too?”
“Hmm. I guess you’re okay to hang with.”
“Okay to hang with.” I laugh. “Wow. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.” I glance over and can tell she’s trying not to laugh.
When I smirk, she rolls her eyes.
I don’t give her the destination. Instead, I crank up the heat, put on a playlist I know she’ll like—half indie, half hits from the mid-2000s—and we drive. The road winds north, trees rising tall and dark against the sky. Her curiosity builds with every mile.
“Are we going to the Boundary Waters?” she gasps when we get closer.
I just smile. “Maybe.”
When I finally pull off onto a small overlook, the horizon opens up. The night sky spreads wide and infinite, stars scattered like someone tossed glitter across dark silk. And already, faint streaks of green shimmer at the edges, promising more to come.
Juju gasps again, staring out the window. “Camden.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, my throat tight.
I cut the engine, hop out, and open the back of the SUV. The seats are folded flat, layered with blankets and pillows. The basket sits at one end, and I line the thermoses neatly beside it. I grab her hand and help her climb in.
“This is…” she starts, then trails off, wide-eyed.
“I’ll turn the heater on to warm things up if we get too cold, but I didn’t want us to miss the northern lights,” I say, settling in beside her. “They’re supposed to be crazy tonight.”
I open the basket.
“Oh my God, this looks amazing!”
“There are hand-warmers here, and feet-warmers”—I wave at them—“and about a thousand blankets, so you don’t freeze.”
She shakes her head, grinning. “You thought of everything.”
I lean over and kiss her softly. “My grandmas would not approve of me kissing you before the date is over, but I couldn’t wait.”
She laughs, the sound bubbling out and making the whole night feel warmer.
I pass her a thermos, and we lean back on the pillows, the moonroof above framing the sky like a window to another world.
The first real wave of color washes across the stars—ribbons of green and pink that shift and ripple like magic. Juju sucks in a breath, hand tightening around mine. I don’t look at the lights. I look at her, the glow reflecting in her eyes, her lips parted in wonder.
“Worth it?” I ask softly.
She turns her head, and her smile is the kind that makes my heart stop. “More than worth it.”
We pull out the sandwiches, and she hums after she takes a bite.
“So good,” she says. “You’ve always known how to make everything taste good.”
“I’ve always thought that about you,” I tell her truthfully.
The lights are brilliant. I’ve never seen such a vivid display of color across the sky. We ooh and aah like we’re watching fireworks.
And then the snow comes. And it keeps on coming. Before long, the flakes are swirling hard and fast, making it feel like we’re getting dumped on. I straighten.
“This looks like some serious snow.” I pull out my phone. “Let me check the weather and see what’s happening.”
No signal.
“Shit. I forgot that it’s hard to get reception up here.” Fuck. I was so intent on making everything right for this date, I forgot to do one of the most important things you should do during a Minnesota winter––I forgot to check the weather forecast.
I’m suddenly aware of how remote we are. “We should probably head back before it gets worse.”
She nods. “Do you think it’s safe to drive?”
The pit in my stomach grows as we get out and move to the front of the vehicle. I start the engine. “If not, don’t worry. We’ll find a place to stay.”
We creep along, my wipers working overtime, but it’s not enough. Juju’s quiet beside me, her hands tucked into her lap. I can feel the worry bouncing off of her. My gut makes the call. I don’t want to put us at risk.
“We should stop,” I say.
“I haven’t seen any places,” she says.
“I think there’s a motel not too far.” When we finally reach the motel I was thinking about, it’s a lot more run-down than I was expecting.
The neon vacancy sign is flickering, and only a couple of cars are out front.
I look at Juju. “I’m really sorry about this. Not how I wanted this night to go.” Snow smacks the windshield. “I hate that this is the first place we’re ever spending the night,” I mutter.
Her laugh breaks the tension. “You mean you didn’t plan this romantic roadside motel? On our first date?” She laughs harder.
I shoot her a look, but the corner of my mouth twitches. “Nope, not the impression I was going for. I wanted a cozy picnic dinner with the northern lights, and to drive you back home like a gentleman.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, Camden. We’ll laugh about this later.” She snorts. “I’m laughing about it now.”
“You’re right. It’s fun just being with you. I just feel bad.”
“Don’t. I’m having a good time.” She points at me. “But if there are heart-shaped beds and champagne glass tubs, I’m out.”
I snort, swiping my hand down my face.
“This is what I get for borrowing the idea from myself years ago…the last time I almost asked you out on a date…”
“What? You’ve never come anywhere close to asking me out…where was I?” She laughs.