Chapter 9 #2
“It’s exactly the same.” A crease lines his forehead.
“I wasn’t doing Jackson a favor. I was just saying yes to a blind date,” I say, lips pursed.
“Favor?”
I motion wildly with the plastic containers. “To take out his relationship-challenged sister.”
“Our date wasn’t a favor.”
“What was it? It was clear you didn’t want to be there from the start.”
“I wanted to be there.” He takes a step forward.
“Suuuure… Being glued to your phone for the majority of our date screams interest.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then lets out a harsh breath. “Stimming.”
“What?” Face scrunched, my head tilts.
“I’m autistic. Stimming is part of it. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time. It’s a tic I can’t control. I also click my tongue. Did I do that?”
“The phone, yes. The tongue clicking, no.”
He nods.
“Do you also get fixated on topics?” I ask, cataloging some of the things I know about autism.
While my experience with neurodivergence may be limited, I know that autism isn’t cookie-cutter for any person on the spectrum. I can’t help to think of Edward, the physical therapy intern from two years ago. Doc called him Indy because of his fixation with Indiana Jones.
On the last day of his internship, we did a marathon of the original three Indiana Jones movies, complete with commentary between each film by Edward. His enthusiasm reminds me so much of Davis’s during our date. Only Davis’s enthusiasm was less about me and more about…
“Pickleball,” he says, humor dancing in his features. “Did I fixate on it?”
“Just a bit.” I offer a sassy smile. “You even suggested playing a game for our second date.”
“Smooth.” His head tips back as laughter rumbles in his chest.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I nibble on the corner of my mouth.
He shrugs. “Probably the same reason you don’t tell first dates you have celiacs.”
I point at him. “How do you know about…” I release an annoyed breath. “Jackson.”
“He wanted to make sure I knew, so I didn’t accidentally put you at risk. He mentioned something about a date a few years ago at a pizza parlor that ended with you having a bad reaction.”
Overprotective men. My heart both swells at my brother’s sweetness and pricks with annoyance.
What happened at the pizza parlor could happen to anyone.
No matter how hypervigilant I am, things can still happen.
Eating outside of my home is always risky.
But it’s a calculated risk that I choose to take.
“We probably both want to wait for those conversations until date two,” he says, a wry grin kicking across his face.
“Yeah. These conversations are best for the pickleball court,” I tease.
“Yeah.” Smirking, he steps closer, the heat of his body laps against me. “I promise that I did want to be there. I am sorry that I made you think otherwise.”
His warm gaze is fixed on me, reminiscent of hands caressing my skin.
An earnest plea fills his expression, loosening my resolve to be angry.
I now know that he didn’t ignore me. At least not deliberately.
What I understand about stimming is that it helps self-regulate emotions and is often done unconsciously.
Like when one is nervous on a first date.
But that doesn’t explain why he insulted my writing. Bristling, I purse my lips. “You insulted me.”
His mouth ticks down. “Georgia, I?—”
“Honey, I told you that you didn’t need to come.”
Both our gazes snap to Estelle, who moves down the corridor toward us.
“Like I’d listen to that.” He greets her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. “How are you, Nan? How’s Pop?”
Nan? Pop? I blink.
Estelle pulls back, her head tipped up and a big grin on her face. “You’re such a good boy, Kenny.”
Kenny? Mouth slack, my heart beats like stampeding horses. None of this makes sense. His name is Davis, not Kenny.
“I’m doing better now. The doctor just came out to let me know he got through surgery fine and is in recovery.”
Despite the Davis/Kenny confusion, I let out a relieved breath at that. Doc’s okay. Well, at least on his way to okay. There are still months of recovery ahead of him, but he’s out of surgery.
“When can I see him?” Davis asks.
Should I call him Kenny, like Estelle and Doc do? I’m not sure what to call him. For a weekend that has involved three fictional men poofing into existence, this may be the more jarring fact. Somehow, Davis is Kenny, and Kenny is Davis.
“Tomorrow. They’ll move him to a room in a bit. I’ll hang around until he’s settled.” She steps back, her attention drops to me. “Oh, Peach, thank you so much for everything.”
“Peach?” Davis spins, his brows nearly reaching his hairline. “You’re Peach?”
“Georgia… But your grandparents call me Peach,” I admit bashfully.
Clearly, Davis had no idea who I was, but the realization that wrinkles his features telegraphs that he knows who Peach is. No doubt Doc’s cupid antics were done to both of us.
“Georgia Peach.” His chuckle is warm.
Estelle’s head cocks to the right. “You two know each other?”
“Georgia’s brother Jackson works with me at No Boundaries,” he offers.
“Works with you?” She bats the air. “Such modesty for the CEO and founder.”
My right eyebrow may be fused into an arched position at this point. In the course of a few minutes, everything I thought I knew about Davis was turned upside down. He’s Kenny. Doc and Estelle’s grandson. Also, he’s not just a finance bro, but as No Boundaries’ founder and CEO, he is their king.
“I can wait with you while they get Pop admitted,” he says.
She shakes her head. “Not needed. Plus, someone needs to take Peach home. She rode in the ambulance, so her car is at SPN.”
“It’s not?—”
“Hush.” Estelle dismisses my protest with a flick of her wrist. “It’s the least we can do. You’ve taken such good care of us.” She peers up at her grandson. “Peach never left our sides.”
“Thank you.” His grateful gaze lands on me, causing something to swoop low in my belly.
Stop it! We don’t like him. My body is at odds with everything. My brain is unable to reconcile Davis the asshole with Kenny, the sweet grandson of two of my favorite humans. How can he be the same person?
Davis looks between me and his grandmother. “Nan, how will you get home?”
“I drove myself here. I can drive myself home.” Resolve glints in her eyes.
His mouth curves into a boyish grin. “I won’t argue with you.”
The exchange squeezes something in my chest. It’s sweet how he worries but doesn’t push. If this were me and my brothers, there’d be an entire lecture about how they should drive me home.
“Are those for me?” Estelle points to the food containers still in my hand.
“Yeah.” I hand them to her. I pull out one of the water bottles from my purse. “And this.”
“Such a thoughtful woman. Not to mention quite fetching.” She nudges her grandson.
“You’re relentless.” With a laugh, he bends to place a tender kiss on her cheek. “Call me once he’s settled and when you get home.”
“See how thoughtful my handsome grandson is,” she coos, winking at me.
“Relentless.” My eyeroll is lighthearted.
With a wry grin, she turns and heads down the hall. “Oh, Kenny—” she looks over her shoulder. “Take Peach to grab a bite before you take her to her car. The poor thing hasn’t eaten since breakfast.”
We both shake our heads as Estelle disappears down the hall.
I clear my throat. “I have so many questions.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Brows lowered, I motion at him. “Why do they call you Kenny?”
He twists to face me, determination sparks in his eyes. “I’ll answer all your questions at the restaurant.”
Curiosity bubbles over inside me like a pot of water left on the burner too long.
I want to know everything. How did Davis the ass turn out to be Kenny the thoughtful grandson?
Despite his proclamation that he wanted to be on our date and never meant to make me feel otherwise, he is the same man who insulted me.
The same man who belittled the idea of a happy ending.
“We don’t need?—”
“Please,” he says, a soft plea punctuates that single word.
“Alright,” I say, not knowing if it’s due to hunger pangs or the pull of curiosity.