Chapter 16 #2
Bailey: By maturity and grace, I mean I’ve read seventeen comments and judged every one, typed out responses, and then deleted them without posting. You’re welcome.
Reeves chuckled, and warmth replaced the unrest inside him. She was jealous of the women commenting on his videos, some of which were five years old, and he could admit he liked that.
Bailey: One woman said, “I’d get lost in the woods with him anytime,” and I just want to say, “Ma’am, please form an orderly line behind the veterinarian.”
He fell onto the barstool, his thumbs hovering over his screen as he tried to find a way to respond to her stream-of-conscious thoughts while scrolling through his channel.
A minute went by, and then two, and he got up to continue prepping the pizza toppings.
After all, Bailey should be here within the next hour, and he wanted everything to be ready.
He’d sliced the red peppers and mushrooms and popped the top on the three jars of sauce he’d purchased—pesto, Alfredo, and marinara—before his phone started bleeping again.
Bailey: I’ve now watched you build a shelter out of branches, snow, and what I assume was pure stubbornness.
I’m revising my emergency preparedness plan. It now says only one thing: “Call Reeves.”
I’m not saying I’m impressed.
Fine. I’m impressed—but only because you also reminded everyone to pack extra socks. A man who respects dry feet is hard to find.
Reeves tipped his head back and filled his house with laughter.
Bailey: How do you come up with the titles for these videos? “Three Nights Alone Below Zero”?? How is this considered recreational?
“That was a tough one,” Reeves said, and his nose told him he needed to get back to the stove, where he’d crumbled up some sausage and set it to brown. He moved to do that, though his phone continued to sing at him.
He took care of the sausage and laid out the pepperoni and fresh bacon bits before he returned to his device.
This video title says, “Winter Survival Basics,” but I’m pretty sure my basic winter survival is putting on fuzzy socks and complaining.
I can’t even imagine what you thought of me acting like a Nervous Nellie during a little rain. Rain, Reeves! You’re setting up camp in a cave you happened to find! Your bed is made of rocks!
I like those T-shirts. Do you have extras, or will I have to buy my own and allow for 10 – 14 days for shipping? I live next door… Reeves shook his head, finally latching onto something to respond to. I can give you a T-shirt, Bay.
He hesitated before he sent the message, because she’d just sent one more, and as his eyes blitzed left and right as he read, his heart pounded.
I know this was hard for you to tell me about. But for the record, I’m not weirded out. I’m not upset. I’m just sitting here watching you calmly eat a steak off the tip of a knife while a blizzard rages around you, and trying not to become insufferably smug that I know you in real life.
I want to watch more, but well, I have a pizza-making date with a really handsome mountain man, even if he did cut his hair when I liked it long, so I’ll have to pause for now.
See you soon.
“Not soon enough,” Reeves said to the pizza toppings spread across his countertop, Pansy, and Sir. His hand drifted up to his shorter hair as he looked at his canines, both of whom sat at attention on the invisible line Reeves had drawn in his kitchen.
“Bailey’s coming,” he told them, and his voice cracked on the last syllable.
He cleared his throat and got to his feet, suddenly needing to do something with his hands.
He started pulling out the already-shredded mozzarella cheese, and spoons for spreading the sauces, and the cornmeal so they could pat their dough out into circles without it sticking to the countertop.
Through it all, he couldn’t quite believe Bailey had taken this stressful confession that surely had felt like betrayal in the beginning and turned it into something playful and funny.
She was so good, and Reeves certainly didn’t deserve her immediate acceptance—or the compliments she’d hidden in her texts.
Yes, you do.
The thought entered his mind and sat there, along with all the others about Bailey.
He was competent with building shelters in storms, and surviving through the most difficult of conditions, so maybe, just maybe, he should take the confidence of his online persona and employ it in his personal life.
After all, he wasn’t still the child or teenager who’d suffered at the hand of his father, and Reeves deserved someone good in his life to care about him, love him, show up for him, and accept him just how he was. Why couldn’t that person be Bailey?
“Bless me, Lord,” he whispered, and then his phone chimed out a different sound, one that told him his front camera had just detected motion. Bailey was here, and Reeves didn’t have time to add to his prayer.
No, he did not, because he strode through the kitchen and down the front foyer to pull open the door. Bailey stood there, surprise coloring her expression. “I haven’t even touched the doorbell.”
Reeves stepped down to join her on the porch, sweeping her into his arms with barely enough time to say, “I saw you on the camera,” before he kissed her.