Chapter Thirty-One
West
“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” Grandpa looks me over when I return to the kitchen.
He’s putting the finishing touches on the dinner we prepared together, but I had to step away to shower when I realized how late it had gotten. Blue’s supposed to be here in fifteen minutes and tonight has to be perfect.
“You don’t think this is too much?”
“Too much?” He frowns as I fidget with my tie. “What were you gonna do, greet the woman at the door in your boxers?”
I look down at myself, trying not to overthink this.
“Relax, son. She’ll think it’s nice that you put so much thought into tonight—making sure the house is spotless, preparing dinner from scratch. And I don’t think there’s a woman alive who’d be upset that a man put on a nice pair of pants and a shirt that actually has buttons for a date.”
I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous, but I hope he’s right. Best case, Blue sees the effort that went into tonight. Worst case, she’ll think I’m trying too hard and assume I have something up my sleeve.
You’re thinking too much, and you ruin shit when you think too much.
He slides the dinner rolls into the oven, then sets the timer before I grab him into a hug.
“Thank you. I would’ve burned this place down without you.”
He laughs, but we both know it’s true. He pats my back as we separate. “No problem. Anything I can do to help.”
He glances down at his watch, and his eyes widen.
“Shoot, guess I should get a move on,” he says. “I’ll be at Dane’s or the night to give you two some privacy, but you should know I’m heading out for good in a few days.”
I wasn’t expecting that. He’s been here so long, I guess I let myself get too used to it, used to his company, his off-color sense of humor.
“Wow… okay. I hate that you have to go, but—”
“Trust me, if it were up to me, I’d stay put until Blue’s hauling her bags back across the threshold, but that damn cousin of yours.”
His jaw tenses, and I don’t have to wonder which cousin he’s talking about.
“Linden?”
“Who else? That idiot’s gotten himself into some pretty deep shit. A DUI this time,” he adds with an eye roll.
I wish that came as a surprise, but Linden’s always in deep shit.
“Looks like we’ll have two mugshots in this month’s family newsletter,” he teases, smacking my cheek lightly.
“Funny.”
“I sure thought so.” He pauses to glance around, then meets my gaze. “You’ve done good here. Now, just relax and be yourself. Fortunately, she’s already in love with you, so half the work’s already done.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
“See you tomorrow,” he says, and then he heads out as his ride pulls up.
I’m a wreck on the inside, pacing as I try to keep my breathing steady. I look down at my clothes again—black shirt, pants, and tie—still questioning whether it’s too much.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it from my pocket.
Dane: Grandpa just texted his ETA. That mean the house is date-ready?
West: God. Don’t start…
Dane: A guy can’t make sure his brother’s dialed in?
West: Dialed in? What the fuck are you even saying right now?
Sterling: What are you wearing?
West: Clothes.
Sterling: I’m picturing you in a dry-fit shirt and sweats. Please tell me I’m wrong.
Ricky: Go easy on him. He’s nervous.
West: I’m not nervous. I’m just having dinner with my wife.
That’s a lie, and I’m not even sure why I lied, but it felt like the right response in the moment.
Ricky: Exactly. He’s got this.
Ricky: But for real. At least tell me you put the iron to your shirt.
West: …
Dane: Damn, that means he’s wearing Under Armor.
Sterling: Un-fucking-believable.
I frown at my phone as I type out a response.
West: The fuck is that supposed to mean? I know how to dress myself.
Ricky: Chill, we’re supposed to keep him calm. Tonight’s a big deal.
West: I AM calm.
There goes that lie again.
Sterling: Where’d you order dinner from?
West: Didn’t. I cooked.
Sterling: Oh, shit. Order a backup pizza. Just in case.
I let out a breath, realizing this conversation’s not helping, and type out what I’ve decided will be my final message to these assholes for the night.
West: Appreciate it, guys. I’ll text tomorrow.
I shove my phone back inside my pocket, and as soon as I’m finished lighting the candles on the table… the doorbell rings.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
My pulse races. I’m not sure what I’m feeling more, nervousness or excitement. But as soon as I reach the door and lay eyes on the woman who stole my heart and never returned it, I know the answer.
Excitement.
“Hey,” she says softly, and I step aside to let her in.
“Hey. You look… beautiful.”
And I’m suddenly grateful Grandpa suggested that I dress up. Because standing in front of her now, I look like the one who didn’t try hard enough.
A burgundy dress stops just below her knees, hugging every single curve along the way, and I remind myself this dinner isn’t about dragging her upstairs first chance I get.
The thin straps leave her shoulders exposed and her hair rests on them in soft waves.
The pendant of the gold necklace I bought her on our second anniversary rests at the hollow of her throat, and the way her pulse drums there tells me she may be a little anxious, too.
“You look nice, too,” she says, and I tear my eyes away from the length of her legs to meet her gaze.
Her heels click across the marble of the foyer until she slips them off, and I take note of how the black polish on her toes matches her fingernails.
“I brought wine.” She holds up a bottle, and I smile at the gesture.
“Perfect. That’s the one thing I forgot.”
A soft laugh rolls off her lips, and I’m caught off guard when she latches onto my arm as we head toward the kitchen. It’s a soft gesture I wasn’t expecting, but it’s definitely one I appreciate.
The oven timer goes off, but I pull out Blue’s chair and get her seated before grabbing an oven mitt. I feel her eyes on me as I take the rolls out and set them on the counter. Grandpa was adamant about letting them cool before serving them, so I pop the cork on the wine first.
Blue watches intently as I pour us both a glass, making a note that she sprung for the good stuff. Maybe that means she feels it, too. That tonight is important, a big deal for so many reasons.
She looks around before meeting my gaze again. “You pulled out all the stops,” she says.
I even sprung for fresh flowers to put in the vase because she pays attention to little things like that, the fine details, the extra mile.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”
A warm smile flashes my way, and I feel unbelievably grateful that she’s here tonight. She could’ve turned me down, could’ve said I’d done too much, could’ve said our time had passed, but none of those things happened.
She’s here.
“Ready to eat?”
Her face lights up with the question. “I am, actually, but I’m in serious shock right now. Did you actually cook for me?”
“I did. With Grandpa’s help, of course. Had to make sure it’s edible.”
We both laugh, then her gaze follows me to the cabinet. “What’d you make?”
I reach for two plates while answering. “Seared ribeye with garlic butter, mashed potatoes, and roasted asparagus.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”
I hold back another smile when she says that, because that was definitely the reaction I hoped for. Now, here’s hoping she still feels that way after she tastes it.
I plate her food first, then mine. She eyes it as I set hers down, and I lower into my seat. She cuts a small piece, then tastes it while I wait for a response.
“West, this is amazing.”
My heart settles a bit, and I can finally try the food for myself now that I know she thinks it’s decent.
We start off eating in silence, but I refuse to let things get awkward. My first thought is to mention Pandora’s post about Reed from a few days ago, but I pivot. Bringing up anything having to do with the Lawsons feels like a mistake.
“How’d it go at the center the other day? Did the guys seem okay with the changes?”
We’ve texted every day since she stayed over, but we kept things light, avoiding anything that felt like a potential landmine.
I saw the pics of her and Scar handing Seth his ass on the sidewalk, but I made it a point not to press her about it.
Besides, it looked like she handled it on her own, and I couldn’t be prouder.
She finishes a bite of steak, then dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “It went fine, I guess. Most of the guys were surprised to hear that we’re changing things up so late in the project, but those who follow Pandora seemed to be expecting it.”
I let that sink in, that the men who work for her are tuned in to her life, consuming the details. I don’t have to imagine what that feels like, because I deal with it at the training facility, on the field. But I guess I hadn’t considered that she faces that kind of exposure, too.
“Well, at least it’s handled and you can move forward.”
She nods, sipping her wine. “Yeah, there’s that, I guess, but I still have to find another contractor. I have no idea what I’m doing, and the last thing I need is more issues slipping through the cracks when the inspector returns.”
She doesn’t say it out loud, but I can see she’s stressed. Seth did more than fuck things up for himself. He screwed Blue in the process.
“Anything I can do to help?”
She peers up briefly with a soft smile. “No, but thanks for asking. This is just one of those things I have to sort out on my own.”
I pick up a piece of asparagus and take a bite, but I’m not distracted from the sudden silence that creeps in.
“What’s wrong?”
She blinks up at me, forcing a smile. “Nothing. All good.”
We’ve been together long enough to spot when the other isn’t being entirely truthful, so she’s not convincing me.
“You know you don’t have to pretend with me, don’t you? I want to know what’s on your mind.“