Chapter 41
New Year’s Eve arrived, and Vic couldn’t remember one she’d ever looked forward to more. She made a nice array of snacks for Audra, who expressed contentedness that seemed sincere, if snippily delivered, about having a night to herself “finally.”
Vic was beside herself with curiosity as she got ready, sliding into sheer black hosiery and a vintage black velvet cocktail dress that she’d found at the shop and been unable to resist. She finished the outfit with a simple updo and her wide diamond cuff bracelet.
When Cal came to the door to pick her up, he stuttered, “Oh, wow . . . you . . . are . . .” He shook his head. “Just . . . wow.”
“I’ll take that as a high compliment, good sir.”
He nodded. “Please. Yes. Do. That’s definitely how I mean it.”
She climbed into the van, pulling her long coat around her, as he held the door for her.
“So where are we going?” she asked once he was settled into the driver’s seat and they were on their way.
He hesitated. “I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.”
“I won’t be, I’m sure.”
“It’s just, it seemed like a good idea when I had it, but now—” he motioned toward her, “seeing all the trouble you went to, I don’t know.”
“It was no trouble. I like getting dressed up.” And she did. Still, Vic glanced out the window, feeling uneasy. Why did they have to be such a good pair, even when it came to insecurities?
“No,” Cal said abruptly, decisively. Vic jerked her gaze back to him.
He shook his head. “Sorry, sorry—I was losing my nerve there for a bit, but it’s all good. I know you. I know you’re going to like what I have planned.”
A few minutes later, they pulled up to a small, well-maintained, 60s-style L-shaped bungalow. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she got “all gussied up,” to quote Audra, and she looked at him, assuming it was his house and wondering if he’d forgotten something, or—
His nod answered her unvoiced question, and he took a deep breath.
“Yep, this is my place, but please don’t get the wrong idea.
I just, well, I know you’re sometimes not the most relaxed in public, and when we first met, we talked about cooking and stuff .
. . and, well, I’d like to make you dinner. ”
Part of Vic wanted to tease him—Didn’t want me to get the wrong idea, hey? What do you mean by that?—if only to camouflage her own nerves, but he looked so genuinely unsure of himself that she couldn’t.
She put her hand on his arm. “This dating stuff . . . it doesn’t get any easier with age, does it? Dinner, cooked by you for me, sounds wonderful.”
He laughed and looked so grateful to her that she choked up a little.
From the moment they entered the house and Cal turned on the lights, it was clear, however, that he hadn’t just planned dinner. Or rather, hadn’t planned just any dinner.
The dining room table was formally set, including water goblets, red wine glasses, white wine glasses, and champagne flutes, arranged above the knives on the right side of their plates, with creamy linens and gold-trimmed China that Vic recognized from The Second Chance Shop.
A lush, low-profile arrangement of white roses, ivy, and evergreen interspersed with pillar candles formed the centerpiece.
“May I take your coat, ma’am?” Cal asked, and she could tell her surprised speechlessness pleased him, the same way his earlier stuttering had her.
On the way back from the entranceway closet, he paused in the living room and hit a remote. Soft pop music filled the background, nice and quiet so it wouldn’t interrupt conversation.
Vic wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms, shivering just a little.
“Cold?” Cal asked, immediately concerned.
“No, I don’t think so. Just surprised, I think. What’s the occasion?”
“A New Year, a new friend—that’s you, in case you didn’t know.”
She nodded. “It’s just very special already.”
“Good, it should be—because you are very special.”
Vic blinked. Was she falling for love bombing again? She excused herself to the washroom to compose herself and found it lit with a small candle along with another white rose in a bud vase.
“Just enjoy it,” she whisper-commanded herself in the mirror. “Enjoy him.”
“So, what’s for dinner?” she asked lightly, once back in the kitchen.
Cal grinned. “Pizza.”
“What? Really? That’s awesome!”
He shook his head. “No, totally joking.” His voice held a note of wonder. “The craziest thing is, I really think you wouldn’t mind if it was pizza.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.”
“Pizza on fine China?”
“Absolutely.”
Cal grinned. “Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed by what I am making.”
Vic smiled. “I’m starting to believe I couldn’t be disappointed by anything you do.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s true—and let me start off by getting you a drink and popping our appetizers in the oven. I thought we could nibble a bit and then I’ll put our main in later”
“Our main? Oolala.”
“That’s right, I’m getting fancy. You’ve been warned.”
And it was fancy. But also, simple. And utterly perfect.
Cal had premade everything, so it just had to be popped into the oven at various times.
They had plump scallops wrapped in bacon and tender-crisp asparagus spears twined in prosciutto with a lovely sparkling apple juice. The sweet, tart, bubbly juice paired perfectly with the savory, rich, delectable morsels.
“Do you drink alcohol at all?” Vic asked.
“Occasionally. And even more occasionally, I sometimes even overindulge, but yeah, I’m careful about alcohol.”
“I like that,” Vic said.
“I bought us a nice bottle of Champagne for midnight, though—and I have a bottle of red, too, for with dinner if you’d like.”
“What are you having?”
“Pomegranate juice,” Cal admitted.
“That sounds great.” And it was indeed great, a perfect complement to the buttery, garlic-infused, melt-in-her-mouth, oven-roasted ribeye steak, baby potatoes, and tossed salad in vinaigrette that Cal had prepared.
By the time Cal brought out dessert, the candles were burned halfway down, and Vic was so full of laughter and conversation on top of the delicious meal that she was sure she couldn’t eat another bite.
But then she saw the Chocolate Pots de Crème in adorable individual ramekins and realized she did have space, after all.
That was the thing with Cal, she mused, sipping the fragrant, dark coffee he’d made to go with their decadent desserts, then licking her spoon, not wanting one drop of the chocolatey goodness to be wasted. He made her feel expansive, never small.
They moved to the living room after their meal, and Cal lit a trio of candles on the low coffee table.
Then he tucked a blanket around her and sat close—though not quite close enough for Vic’s liking.
She leaned into him, and he responded immediately, lifting his arm so she could snuggle in.
It was strange for her—and somehow really erotic—to take the physical side of the relationship slowly.
He leaned in and kissed her neck just below her ear. She shivered, hard.
“You make me . . . I don’t know. All my nerve endings are just so . . . hyper aware of you.” It’s the only way she could think to express.
“I know,” he said, kissing her again in the same spot, then dropping soft petals of kisses down the side of her neck all the way to her clavicle. “That’s how I feel too.”
In response, she brushed her lips against his, and when his mouth opened to hers, she tugged—ever so gently—on his lip with her teeth. He inhaled sharply and she knew he was being truthful. He did feel it too.
Breathless and heady with the rush of endorphins he sent rioting through her, Vic leaned back slightly and ran her hand down the side of his face.
Before they went further, she wanted him to know, really know, what she was like—and then if he still wanted to be with her, it would tell her something.
She wasn’t—and nothing could be a bigger shock to her—going to try to hide her flaws anymore or twist herself into a pretzel trying to be someone that someone else wanted.
“What is it?” he asked, voice low and soft.
“There are some things about myself I need to tell you, some things I’ve done . . . I don’t want secrets between us. I want to be fully known and accepted or to be alone.”
Even though it was only three sentences, it felt like a speech. A terrifying speech.
Cal took her face gently in both hands and stared into her eyes. “You don’t need to tell me a thing. I know who you are now. That’s what’s important—and who we are going forward, that’s important. The past doesn’t define us.”
It was a lovely sentiment. And maybe it was even partially true. The past doesn’t define us, but it does shape who we become, especially until we’re aware of its power and actively choose to let it continue to mold us—or not.
“I—”
“Shhh,” Cal said, then kissed her again. “I know you,” he repeated.
She could feel Angel shaking her head. He means well, but he’s not right—not in this.
Devil scoffed. Why can’t you ever just be happy? Why do you always want to wreck things? And who are you to tell someone else what they need to know? The ego on you.
Was that true? Was it arrogant to think she knew more about what Cal needed than he did?
“Nothing could change my growing feelings for you, Vic,” Cal said into her hair. “And I’m tired of dwelling on the past, instead of looking ahead to what might be next.”
That clinched it. Maybe it was selfish of her to even want to share. Maybe she was looking for exoneration from him and that was unfair. Also, she was the one who needed to forgive herself—and let go and just keep doing things differently going forward.
“Okay then.” She lifted her face to him again.
“Yes, okay then,” he said against her mouth, and she could feel his smile.
All too soon, he was asking if she wanted to watch the ball drop on TV or to count it down themselves. She blinked. How could it be the cusp of midnight already?
“The hours we spend together disappear, don’t they?” he asked, reading her mind.
She smiled and nodded.
He got up from the couch and returned moments later with the champagne flutes from the table and a bottle so cold it steamed lightly in the warm room.
“Let’s count down ourselves,” Vic decided as he poured them both generous servings of bubbly.
“Agreed.”
“And let’s both make a silent wish right on the dot of midnight.”
“I love it.”
Cal set his phone face up on the coffee table with the clock app open.
They both watched it till there were only eleven seconds left.
In unison, they looked up, locked eyes, and Cal took her free hand.
Vic’s heart jumped in her chest. The expression on his face, the warmth in his gaze.
Had anyone ever looked at her with such transparent affection before? They chanted down from ten together.
One. Without saying a word to sync themselves, they both closed their eyes.
When Vic opened her eyes, she felt a bit teary. Her wish had been so simple. Please let this be real this time. Please let the feelings we both seem to have be true.