Chapter 21
twenty-one
“You know what I realized?” Brett whispers.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve never taken you on a date.”
“We haven’t, have we?”
“Will you go out with me?” he asks hesitantly.
“Yes. Can we go to sleep now?” I murmur as my eyes fall closed once again.
The scene from the other night, right after we made love, plays through my head.
God, could I have been any more cringe-worthy?
Can we go to sleep now?
It wasn’t my smoothest moment ever.
In true Brett fashion, though, he didn’t hold it against me. All he did was make sure the next morning that I still wanted to go out.
Stepping back, I turn to the side and stare at myself in the mirror.
My hair is longer and hangs around my shoulders.
Instead of curling it, though, I ran a straightener through it, fixing all the imperfect spots.
I have on a fitted dress that hits right above the knees, that’s a light blue and almost matches my eyes.
What really gets my attention, though, is my stomach.
My little growing bump.
It feels as if I’ve popped overnight.
I run my hand over my bump and smile.
My baby is growing in there. I’m officially halfway through my pregnancy, or as close to halfway as I can get. On one hand it feels like I’ve been pregnant forever, and on the other hand, it feels like I just found out yesterday.
Life is fucking crazy.
There is a knock at the door, so I step away from the mirror.
This is it.
My heart races with anticipation.
Brett and I have done a lot of things since we’ve known each other, but this is new.
This is a first.
Grabbing my things, I leave my room and head to the door. When I see Ashley, though, I freeze.
She looks over at me and sneers. “I would appreciate it if you kept your visitors to a minimum. Some of us are actually trying to achieve things around here.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
When she goes to move past me, I shoulder-check her.
Is it petty? Absolutely, but I’m over it.
Brett raises his eyebrows when her door slams shut.
“One, you look amazing. Like, it’s really fucking tempting to say fuck our date and go back to my place. Second, what the fuck was that?” he asks, pointing down the hall where the she-devil resides.
“That was nothing. Are you ready?”
“One thing before we leave.”
“What’s up?”
Brett pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
My breath catches.
Flowers.
He brought me flowers.
“You got me flowers.”
“I did.” He holds them out, but I don’t take them.
Instead, I run my finger over a petal.
Never in my life has anyone bought me flowers. Not my dad, my grandfather, nobody. The only flowers I’ve ever gotten were while standing on a podium.
“Do you want to put them in water or something?” he asks.
“No, I want to take them with us. I don’t know what Ashley will do if she finds them.” I move in and kiss him softly. “Thank you for these.”
“You’re welcome.”
Stepping into the hall, I let the door fall shut behind me. Normally, I would take the time and lock it, but not today.
Fuck Ashley.
We head downstairs, and when we reach his car, he opens my door for me.
“You know I’m a done deal, right? You don’t have to try and impress me,” I tease when he gets into the car.
“Buttercup, done deal or not, I’m never going to stop trying to impress you.”
I duck my head to try and hide my smile.
This man.
“So how was your day?” I ask as he drives.
“Better now that I’m with you.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I tease, making him chuckle. “Seriously, though, how was it?”
I look over at him and watch him as he drives. Without looking away from the road, he reaches over and entwines our fingers. He’s got one arm tossed over the steering wheel. It looks like he’s driving with his wrist almost.
“It was good. I had class and then practice. How was your day?”
“Can’t complain. I had class, then I went home and did some homework before getting ready for tonight.”
He hums as he looks over at me quickly before looking back at the road. “You look gorgeous. I can’t remember if I told you that or not.”
“You did. So, where are we going?”
“I made dinner reservations. Then I figured afterward we could go to a movie, or we could go back to my place and watch something there, depending on how you feel. Does that sound okay?”
Not only did he take the time to make reservations, but he also came up with a backup plan.
I love him.
Seriously, could he be any more perfect if he tried?
If he knew I thought that, he would probably take it as a challenge.
“Actually, that sounds perfect. It’s almost as if you know me or something.”
Brett smirks. “I’ve only had a couple of years to plan this. Not a big deal or anything.”
“There you go with the sweet talk again,” I say, trying to hide my smile.
We pull up to the restaurant.
“Don’t open your door, please,” he tacks on like it’s an afterthought as he gets out.
He comes around to my side of the car and opens the door.
“My lady,” he jokes, holding out his hand.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Brett chuckles as I place my hand in his and get out.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks as he locks his car.
“I am. You?”
“I’ve been ready for this.”
He pushes my hair away from my face before he leans down and kisses me slowly. He takes his time as he explores my mouth, and only when we are both breathless does he pull away.
“Come on, let’s go have our first date. Our first of many.”
Seriously, how did I resist him for so long? How did I miss what was right in front of me all along?
I can tell you one thing, I can see him clearly now, and I like what I see.
“Thank you,” we tell the server as they walk away after taking our order.
Emery rests her chin in her palm as her elbow rests on the table. Something that would drive my family crazy for the lack of manners, but I love it.
She looks around the restaurant with a critical eye. We’re in a booth with a featured rock wall behind us. There are lights along the back of the bench, giving off a soft glow that almost makes her look like she has a halo.
She looks like an angel.
“I can feel you staring.” she murmurs.
“I can’t help it. You take my breath away.”
“Seriously, be honest, how long have you been sitting on all these lines you have?” she asks, making me smile.
“Longer than I care to admit. Now, let’s get this date started.”
Her eyebrows raise. “And here I thought the date started when you picked me up.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Okay, what do you have in mind?”
“I want to get to know you.”
She looks down at her stomach for a second and smirks. “And here I thought you knew me pretty well.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. So, I take it you want to ask me a bunch of questions and see if we are compatible.”
“Yes, but no. Instead of asking, I want us to quiz each other. See how well we know one another.”
“So, for example, the question is favorite color. I guess yours and you guess mine. Then we see who’s right.”
“Exactly, and for the record, yours is purple.” I wink as her mouth drops open.
“How did you know?”
“Because I pay attention.”
She sits back in her chair and studies me for a moment. “Well yours is blue. Light blue.”
Like your eyes.
“Correct. Next question, what’s our guilty pleasures? For you, I would say…ice cream.”
“Good guess. For you, I’m going to say name brand. Mainly for electronics. You’ve always had the latest models of computers and stuff since I’ve known you.”
Huh. I never really thought of myself as a material kind of guy, but I can see it now that it’s been pointed out to me.
“Acceptable answer.” I nod, giving her the win.
“I have one. What do you think we would sing, individually, if forced to do karaoke? Personally, I think you would sing ‘Sweet Caroline.’”
“‘Wannabe.’ I could totally see you singing some Spice Girls.”
Emery winces. “Song choice would be accurate if I liked karaoke. Which I hate. Never expect me to get on stage in front of a bunch of drunk people and sing.”
“They’d be drunk, so it wouldn’t be nearly as embarrassing.”
“Still embarrassing,” she says as the server brings over our food.
We don’t pick up the conversation again until she walks away.
“Okay, I’m switching it up. Tell me what your ideal Sunday morning would look like.”
Emery hums as she scoops up some mashed potatoes. “I think my ideal Sunday would be a lazy one. Sleep in, make some waffles or pancakes, then just hang out. Watch movies, play board games, ignore the outside world. What about you?”
“The same, actually, but only I would bring you tea in bed,” I tell her.
It’s true, too. I can see it so perfectly.
Our child would be a toddler, if not a little older, so they would sleep through the night.
We would wake up and have slow, lazy sex.
I would have to cover her mouth to keep her quiet.
Then once we finished, we would have tea in bed until our child forced us to get up. We would spend the entire day together.
“You can’t go stealing my answers,” she teases as I take a bite.
“I can if they are what I want. What does your ideal relationship look like? Besides being with me,” I tease.
Emery pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Man, your confidence is out of this world.”
“You like it. Now are you going to answer the question?”
“You first, I’m still thinking.”
“I want the exact opposite of my parents.” Her eyebrows raise, but I continue.
“I would like to be sickeningly in love with my wife. I would want her to be my best friend, my confidant. I want our kids to groan when they walk into the room because they found us kissing again, dancing, or whatever. I want to show my kids what a relationship is meant to look like, not what I saw growing up. Ideally, it would be with you.”
Even with the shit lighting, I can see her blush.
“That. I want that,” she says softly.
“I thought we couldn’t steal each other’s answers,” I tease, making her laugh.
“But it’s true! Don’t get me wrong, I know my parents love each other, but they’ve never been the type to say I love you just because they can.
Not to each other, and not to me. I want there to be no question that there is love in my home, between you and me and our child.
Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that you said kids when talking about our future. ”
I shrug with no shame. “I don’t care if there is an age gap between our kids, but I would like more than one. Growing up, I hated being an only child. Hell, I still hate it. It’s fucking lonely. I don’t want that for our child.”
Her eyes soften. “I hate being an only child, too.”
“So more than one?”
She nods. “More than one. Just later.”
We could always try for her to get pregnant right after having our first. It would make her rebounding more difficult, but it could be doable, then our kids wouldn’t be far apart in age at all…
“After the Olympics,” she says, raising her eyebrow.
“After the Olympics.”
“Hey, Brett?”
“Yeah, buttercup?”
“All this talk of the future has me hungry. How about we finish up here and head back to your place?”
“I’ll get the bill.”
Five years. I can hold off for five years…how hard can it be?