19. I’m not scared of dinner with you
Chapter nineteen
I’m not scared of dinner with you
Evan
The truck smells like lake water, and the cooler knocks faintly around in the back of the truck. Elle’s kicked sideways in the back seat with one sneaker half off, still talking even though her eyelids are drooping.
“And the girl penguin gets to be in charge too sometimes,” she adds, voice thick with exhaustion, “because that’s the rule.”
“Only sometimes?”
“Most times, I think.” She shrugs sleepily. “I think it’s s’posed to be romantic.”
I glance at Penny. She’s turned slightly in her seat so she can see Elle better, elbow hooked over the headrest. Her hair’s a mess and cheeks a little pink from the wind, but she looks relaxed.
“Very romantic,” she agrees solemnly, and Elle beams.
By the time we pull into the driveway, she’s gone quiet with her head tipped against the window, still clutching the smooth stone she insisted on bringing home.
Gus explodes out of the truck the second I open the door, does two tight laps of the yard, then flops onto the porch. Inside, everything slows down with the kind of late-afternoon quiet that settles after a big adventure. Penny takes the cooler from me as I unload it, before I can stop her.
“I got it.”
“You don’t—”
“I got it,” she repeats, already halfway inside and carrying it to the sink. “Girls get to be in charge too, don’t yanno?”
I smirk, watching as she pushes up her sleeves and starts rinsing it out, humming under her breath. Water runs over her hands, over the plastic lid, and down the drain.
Elle drifts in behind me as I pull some fruit out to chop for a snack. She’s revived just enough to resume penguin commentary.
“Do you think penguins ever get tired of each other?” she asks.
“Probably,” I say.
“Nuh-uh.” Penny glances over at Elle from the sink. “They definitely don’t.”
“They live in Antarctica,” I retort. “Of course they get sick of each other.”
“Would you get sick of me in Antarctica, Daddy?”
“Never.”
Elle pauses. “What about Penny?”
My eyes flick to Penny, now grinning with a brow raised. “Yes, Evan, what about me?”
“No,” I say, turning my eyes back to the fruit. “Not you either.”
She laughs warmly at that, while Elle drops onto the couch in the living room with a dramatic sigh, her pebble still clutched tight. Gus lumbers over and presses his entire body against her legs as though he’s trying to anchor her there.
There’s dim afternoon light cutting through the window, and Penny’s soft hums as she moves around the kitchen. I lean back against the counter and let myself take it in. Until my phone buzzes on the counter.
Penny looks up first. “You gonna get that?”
I check the screen.
Remi
With a quick exhale, I answer. “You good?”
“Wow,” she says brightly. “No hello? No how are you, Remi, light of my life?”
“You’re fine,” I say. “You only call when you want something or there’s an emergency or you’re pissed off and looking for Colt.”
She laughs, and I can hear kids in the background. Max’s voice, Zela babbling, and the low hum of Colt somewhere further away.
“What're you doing tonight?” she asks innocently.
It’s not innocent.
“…Nothing.”
There’s a pause.
“Well, that’s just unacceptable, Prince.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “We just got back from the lake.”
“Mm, I know. I saw the photos Elle made Penny send to me so I could show Max. Very wholesome. Very family-core.”
Penny arches a brow at me from across the kitchen, and I turn away slightly and lower my voice, as though that’ll help.
“What do you want, Lawson?”
Remi chuckles just enough that I know she’s conspiring. “A sleepover.”
“For who?”
“For Elle, genius. Pizza. Movie. Max has been asking, and Zela will scream if she doesn’t get to see Elle. And it means you can have your own sleepover, too. With Penelope.”
“Remi, that’s—”
“Tell him I said stop being useless!” Colt calls from the background.
“Tell him I can hear him,” I say back.
“Good,” comes Colt’s reply.
Remi doesn’t miss a beat. “Quality time matters, Ev. You know that. You guys get a stretch off, and then it’s back to shifts and late nights and missed dinners. Take it while you can.”
I glance at Penny again, who’s now drying the cooler with careful movements and pretending very hard not to listen.
Remi continues. “Also, Zela starts walking, I’m not offering childcare to anyone. I’ll be too busy chasing two toddlers around.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m a limited-time offer, babe.”
There’s another beat, then she continues softly.
“I like her,” she says. “She’s perfect for you… and you should take her out properly.”
I exhale through my nose. “You don’t even know what’s going on.”
“I don’t need a play-by-play,” she replies. “I have eyes.”
Colt pipes up again, faint but audible. “Tell him I got fifty bucks riding on him not screwing this up.”
“Colt says next round at Neverland is on him if you don’t waste this,” Remi translates sweetly.
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “You’re both insufferable.”
“Are you bringing my angel princess niece to us or not?”
My shoulders rise as I inhale deeply, then look at Penny again.
“Fine,” I say down the phone. “What time?”
Remi makes a small, satisfied sound. “Drop her in an hour.”
I hang up before she can add anything else, like what she thinks I should wear or where she thinks we should go. I haven’t taken a woman out on a real date in so long, it may as well be never. But I’m still a man who knows how to take a woman out on a damn date.
Elle is on her feet before I’ve even put the phone down. “Was that Aunty Remi?”
“Yup. She wondered if you wanna have a sleepover.”
She gasps. “Can I go? Can I? Is Max gonna be there? And Zela? Can Gus come? Can I bring a penguin? Which penguin?”
“Slow down,” I tell her, but she’s already halfway down the hall.
“Sleepover!” she whoops.
Penny wipes her hands on the tea towel, trying to look neutral. “Do you want me t—”
“We’re going out,” I say. “On a date.”
It comes out gruff, and her eyes flick up to mine with a jolt, so I try again.
“Please. If you want to, I mean. Would you like to? Go on a date?”
Elle reappears with an armful of stuffed animals before Penny can reply.
“I need three,” she announces. “Because Max only has two.”
“You only have two hands,” I point out.
“I can hold all of them.” She looks up at me, vibrating. “Daddy, did Remi say we can have pizza?”
“Yup.”
Elle cheers. “She orders the good stuff. She says it’s better than the weird stuff you get.”
Penny laughs, and it fills the room. I push off the counter and guide Elle back toward the hallway.
“Go pack properly, bug. Pajamas. Toothbrush. One penguin.”
“Two!”
“One.”
When I turn back, Penny’s still standing there, biting down on her lip.
“You don’t mind?”
I step into her without thinking about it, close enough that I can see the faint freckles dotting her nose. “Mind what?”
“That they’re doing this.”
I hold her gaze.
“They’re doing it because they want to,” I say. “And because they like you.”
Her breath shifts at that, and she nods.
“And because Remi likes meddling,” I add.
That gets a smile out of her, but she hesitates again. “And… do you want to?”
My hand reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do I want to take you, my freshly labeled something, out on a date?”
She nods.
“Yes, Pen. I really”—I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear—“really wanna take you out on a date.”
Our eyes meet, and she tilts her head up, her lips a breath away from mine, but then Elle’s voice rings out from the hallway, and we snap apart just as she barrels back through. She’s dragging a backpack behind her that seems heavy enough for an expedition to Antarctica itself.
“Ready!”
***
I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, pretending I’m checking my phone, when the backdoor clicks open softly, followed by the faint scrape of heels against the floorboards.
It’s a different sound to the one she usually makes walking back into the house, more tentative, and it has me looking up.
The silver heels are back.
She pauses just inside the doorway, fingers curled loosely around the strap of her bag like she’s only just talked herself into coming back over here.
My eyes immediately drag over her. She’s wearing a silky black dress that follows the line of her waist and hips without trying too hard, and her blonde hair is down, tumbling loose over her shoulders.
She shifts her weight, one hand resting lightly against the wall as she bends to adjust the strap at her ankle. It’s such a small movement, but it pulls my attention down to the curve of her calf, the careful way she fastens it in case it might fall off.
“I feel slightly ridiculous,” she says, not looking at me. “This is Maplewood. There’s probably someone at this restaurant wearing cargo shorts.”
I push off the counter and walk toward her. “You don’t look ridiculous.”
“For a Maplewood dinner,” she adds, trying for light.
She straightens, smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. There's a flicker of nerves in her that makes me pause, because Penny’s often full of bright confidence and quick comebacks. Seeing her uncertain for even a second feels strangely important.
I stop in front of her.
“What about for me?”
Her eyes lift, and I know that’s the real question. She studies my face to check whether I’m joking before she answers.
“Maybe,” she admits.
My gaze moves over her properly this time, taking her in.
“For me, you do not look ridiculous. For me,” I say, eyes dragging back to hers, “you look like I’m gonna spend the whole night thinking about getting you back home.”
It’s not a flashy line, but it’s the fucking truth.
“Evan,” she says softly, only half warning.
I step in close enough that I can feel the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric of her dress, and let my hand settle at her waist, thumb skating lightly at her hip.
“Still feel ridiculous?” I ask.
She shakes her head once. “No.”
“Still wanna go out?” My body’s already hoping she says no.
She chuckles, and I press my hips forward into hers, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.