Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Thursday afternoon, as Myla headed to her parents’ house to help with the setup for their New Year’s Eve party the following night, she realized that she’d talked to Alfie every day since they’d met, and had seen him not only Sunday, but Tuesday and Wednesday as well.
They’d gone for dinner Tuesday after work, and he’d brought her a tin of sugared orange jellies.
She’d nearly swooned off her feet with how amazing it was that he remembered her mentioning casually about her favorite candy and then brought it to her.
Wednesday, he’d asked her if he could take her to work and drop her home, because he’d been worried about the weather.
And when he’d picked her up, he’d brought her hot chocolate with marshmallow cream, peanut butter candies, and chocolate sprinkles.
They’d sat in the car in the parking lot and talked and drank hot chocolate while the snow fell.
It had been magical in a way she hadn’t expected.
And made her realize, also, that she was falling for him.
They hadn’t tangled in a hot and heavy way again, but they’d kissed a whole bunch, and she thought his lips were so erotically charged that she found herself daydreaming about them. How could a guy have perfect lips?
She parked behind her mom’s car in the driveway and got out, reaching in to grab the plastic container of cupcakes she’d made that morning.
The house she’d grown up in was a testament to her dad’s impeccable lawn maintenance skills and her mom’s determination to have the best-looking flower beds on the block.
Even though it was winter, the flower beds were filled with faux poinsettias and lighting that would make the whole house glow for the party.
The annual tradition had started when her parents were first married, and was one that everyone looked forward to.
The party was always simple and sweet: good food, good friends and family, and the encouragement for everyone to have a plus-one to kiss at the ball drop.
At least once she and her brother had been old enough to bring dates.
Although if her dad had his way, he probably wouldn’t have wanted her to date until she was thirty.
“Mom?” she called, opening the door.
“In the kitchen, honey.”
She shut the door and pulled off her stocking cap, then hung up her coat and hat and carried her cupcakes into the kitchen.
She gave her mom a hug and put the cupcakes on the counter that was mostly full of her mom’s serving bowls and platters.
She could smell bread baking, and knew her mom was making her famous bread trio: sourdough, cranberry walnut, and apple cinnamon.
The breads would be sliced and served alongside fresh butter from an Amish market.
Her mom, Stacy, opened the container lid and smiled. “These look great, honey. Alice is on her way, and she’s bringing Chex mix.”
“Yum. Put me to work, Ma.”
Her mom directed her to the dining room to iron the tablecloths that would cover the plastic folding tables for the food.
The other rooms of the house were full of chairs and TV trays, and every available surface had some sort of decoration on it, from electric glitter-covered candles, to bunches of gold and black balloons in the corners of the rooms, to hats and noisemakers ready for the ball drop.
“Did you ever think you’d still be hosting this party after all these years?” she asked as she spread the first white-and-gold tablecloth over the old ironing board and gave the iron a test burst of steam.
“Heck no,” her mom said with a laugh. “I wanted to stop year three, but Dad wanted to keep going. I do love it, though. I wouldn’t change a thing about opening our home to the people we love. Maybe someday you and Alice can take the reins and host.”
“Not for a long time, I hope,” Myla said.
“Tell me about your new beau.”
“That makes it sound really formal,” she said.
“It’s just a term of endearment. So how are things going?”
“Good. Really good.” She told her mom about their dates and the texts and calls, and how much she enjoyed being with him and talking to him.
“Aw.”
Myla paused, the iron in her hand. “What?”
“You’re smitten.”
Her cheeks heated. “Mom.”
“Come on, it’s sweet.”
The front door opened and Alice called out. “We’re in the dining room,” her mom said. “Talking about Alfie.”
“Oooh,” Alice said, her voice ending in a chuckle. She joined them in the dining room, hugging both Myla and her mom. “Is he coming to the party?”
“I haven’t asked him.”
“Why not? You said you were head over heels for him when we got coffee yesterday,” Alice said.
Her mom’s brows winged up. “Did you now?”
“Okay,” Myla said, adjusting the tablecloth and finishing the side. “Yes, I did. And he knows about the party, but I…don’t know why I haven’t asked him.”
“Are you afraid Dad is going to threaten him? Because he would only look threatening, not actually be threatening,” her mom said with a hum and a smile.
“That’s not helping,” Myla said.
“My dad told Milo that he would bury him in the Pine Barrens if he ever hurt me. And that was on our first date!” Alice said.
Myla’s dad, Joe, was an in-state truck driver. Her whole life, he’d left the house in the morning, driven all day, and was home for dinner. He was a big guy, and protective of his family. She could definitely see him giving Alfie a very serious look when they met.
“It’s not about that,” she said. “Alfie’s a great guy. I just… I really like him. And I am falling for him, but we just met Saturday night after that awful blind date.”
“You should bring him,” her mom said, ducking out to the kitchen when a timer went off.
Alice helped lay the freshly ironed tablecloth on one of the folding tables. “It’s only fast if your heart is telling you to slow down. If you think anyone in the family is going to say oh no, you can’t fall in love after a week—they won’t, I promise.”
“It is fast, but it feels right too.”
“That’s how it was with Milo. I swear I fell in love with him on our first date. He was the first guy I dated who opened doors for me. It was such a small thing, you know? But oh, my heart.” She grinned, her eyes dancing.
That was how Myla felt about Alfie.
He’d stolen her heart when he stepped in front of her and pushed Eddie away.
And then he’d repeatedly shown this past week that he listened and cared.
It wasn’t love-bombing—it didn’t feel like he was throwing up red flags with overly romantic behavior to hide anything.
It felt very genuine and very real. And she liked that.
There was trust there, new for sure, but there all the same.
“I will,” Myla said.
“Invite him?” her mom called.
“She’s got ears like a bat,” Alice whispered.
“I heard that,” her mom called.
Myla and Alice both giggled.
“Yes, Mom, I’m going to invite Alfie.”
“I can’t wait to meet him. Oh! I’ll show him your baby book.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Come on,” she said, leaning into the dining room. “You were such an adorable baby and you’re a lovely young woman.”
“Mom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Spoilsport. What is Alfie’s favorite drink? I want to be sure we have whatever he likes.”
“On our dates he’s always gotten iced tea.”
“Perfect.”
“Hey! Do you have my favorite drink?” Alice asked.
“Of course. Cranberry juice and sparkling water to mix together.”
“You’re the best.”
“You know it.”
As Myla and Alice worked on getting the tablecloths ironed and set on the tables, she found herself thinking a lot about what it would be like to be with Alfie in a more serious way.
They’d been talking for almost a week now, and it felt very serious.
Plus, he’d rocked her world after their first date.
But they hadn’t agreed on anything yet, hadn’t made any promises about dating exclusively or anything.
Hell, they hadn’t even spent the night together.
With guys she’d dated in the past, she often felt like she was on pins and needles waiting for texts and calls, wondering if they were going to ditch her or cheat on her.
Alfie might not have promised her his heart yet, but he’d shown up for her a dozen times in the last few days in ways that she hadn’t expected.
She was sure they were on the edge of something incredible and real.
She just wanted to be sure that he felt the same way.