Chapter 37 Poppy
C ockblocked by a cat. I’m not sure that I would have guessed that was in the cards for our date today, but Samson clearly has his own agenda here. He’s currently snuggled up on my lap, in a sea of blankets, and getting all the pets he could want. I’m enjoying it just as much as he is. Being able to just be quiet and bask in Owen’s snug apartment is surprisingly perfect for our date.
“What a little prince you are, sweet Samson,” I coo at him as he looks up at me with his big eyes. His purrs loudly cut through the silence of our cozy reading time.
“Would you like some tea?” Owen offers, shuffling over to the kitchen. “I’m still cold from the rain.”
“Sure, what do you have?” I make a move to get up, but Samson gives me a look that keeps me in my place on the couch. This cat knows what he wants.
“I’ve got an Earl Grey or a Jasmine?”
“Jasmine for me.”
Owen starts filling a kettle before turning on the stove. The familiar clink of mugs as he gets them down from the cabinet only adds to the warm and comfortable feel of his apartment. Soon, the kettle whistles and I scoot Samson to the side. He looks at me sleepily but accepts.
Walking up behind Owen as he works at the counter, I wrap my hands around his waist, burying my face in his back. This is so new with him, but also feels like we’ve been doing this forever. I feel a level of comfort with him that is unexpected, especially with this technically being our first date.
“Here you are,” he says, handing me a cup. His voice has that familiar gravelly sound I’ve already come to like.
“Thank you.” He eyes me. “We’ve read for a bit, want to watch a movie and order in some food?”
“That sounds great, we could get something from Calico Cafe.” I hold my mug close, blowing on it and relishing the warmth of the steam against my face. While Owen pulls up the menu on his phone and puts in our order, I look at the pictures that line his bookshelf. They all appear to be of New York City. I knew that he had lived there, but didn’t realize he’d be the type to keep so many architectural photographs displayed.
Once our order is settled, we both move to sit down and enjoy our tea.“I'm eager to hear more about New York.”
He nods, sinking down into one of the cushioned chairs in a breakfast nook type space next to his kitchen. “New York is busy. It’s loud. It’s beautiful, especially at night. I loved the hustle of it all and the way I felt connected with the thrum of the city.” He looks thoughtfully to the side, his eyes landing on one photo and lingering there. “But, it’s also painfully anonymous and lonely. Aside from my family who live there, I didn’t feel super connected to anyone. Friendships felt superficial because everyone there is so busy and focused on their own lives. I wanted something more .”
“I can understand that. I feel the same way when I travel. It’s fine for a little bit and there are things I love, but I always need to come home and be grounded again. But New York wasn’t grounding for you?”
“No, it felt more like it disoriented me. I know people who love it and will never leave, but it just isn’t where I see myself long term. Family has always been important to me and since I came here so much growing up, it felt like a natural option.”
“And then the short term position opened up at the high school…” I say, understanding how everything fell into place for him to be here.
“Exactly, I took the plunge. And I think it’s been one of the best decisions I’ve made yet.” He looks across the table at me and I instinctively reach my hand across the honey oak table to interlace my fingers with his.
We’re both startled by the ringing of my phone. “Oh god,” I say, much louder than necessary, the sudden noise pulling me out of our intimate moment. Glancing down at it, I see that it’s Sally from that hotel in Toronto. “That’s strange,” I add, before silencing it.
“What?”
“It’s a woman from my hotel while I was traveling. We chatted a lot, but I can’t imagine why she’s calling me. I’m sure she’ll leave a voicemail and I can check it later. Maybe I left something there,” I trail off, not at all sure why she’d be contacting me.
“Do you want to talk to her? You can take it.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll call her back later.” Putting my hand back into Owen’s, I revel at the way my skin feels against his. “There’s still a little time until we need to eat, I think it’s time we stop letting Samson dictate our choices…”