Chapter Ten #2
We sit huddled over our small table with our heads close together.
There’re two jars between us. One with a tealight candle and the other with a small selection of flowers.
It’s giving romance, which is not generally the bar’s vibe.
Same goes for the love songs playing on the jukebox.
Guess Nash organized it with Rose. Which is sweet.
And if he told her this was a date it probably also explains why we have an audience.
Because the dozen or so people gathered over by the bar aren’t being exactly subtle with their gossiping and glances.
Life in a small town continues to be wild. The way everyone knows your business.
“How did things go at the salon?” he asks.
“Got an excellent haircut and blowout with a lecture about the sanctity of marriage.”
“Let me guess…Father Frank?”
“No. Bernadette.”
“Ah,” he says. “The good father cornered me at the library earlier. He gave me a hell of a sermon.”
“People got opinions.”
“They sure do.”
“I noticed your things are gone from Grandma’s house.”
“That they are.” He nods. “You were busy working, so I didn’t want to disturb you. But I would be delighted to move your things to my place if you’re so inclined.”
“Maybe we should take it one day at a time. Or one night at a time.”
He pauses. “Is that what you want?”
“It seems sensible.”
“My treasure…when has sensible ever had anything to do with us?”
“Valid.”
“We’ve known each other for days now. Days. What could possibly go wrong with moving in together?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” I say. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“And I appreciate you taking it seriously, in case I haven’t said so.”
My heart thumps hard beneath the cage of my ribs. God, he gets to me.
There was no hint of such hunger or longing in my last relationship. Like the whole world could disappear. So long as he stayed, I don’t care. And the idea of losing him, of going back to an ordinary world, is frankly terrifying.
Grandma was right about Mom not being particularly affectionate.
Though it went deeper than that. She was so hyper-focused on her career and own personal interests.
It left no room for me or mine. Which might explain why I settled for substandard with the ex.
I haven’t had a lot of love in my life, and I was so scared it would mean everything, that I didn’t let it mean anything. I just kept my heart locked up tight.
Quite the revelation to have in a small-town dive bar. And I am not labeling what’s between us “love.” Because real enduring emotions take time to build. Trust must be earned. Respect and care shown in meaningful ways. Or at least I assume that’s how it works.
“What’s that face mean?” asks Nash.
“It’s nothing…just figuring a few things out.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“No. Thank you,” I say. “I think I just need to contemplate and absorb, you know?”
He nods.
I check on the state of my side boob. Something as special as a first official date with Nash deserved my blue halter-neck, open-back midi dress with strappy flat sandals, since we decided to walk the couple of blocks into town.
Such a great dress, however it does require occasional maintenance.
What I need to do is buy some boob tape to keep things in place.
He, meanwhile, is wearing his usual jeans and boots, only with a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Look at him baring his muscular forearms in such a slutty manner. I applaud the move.
“You’d be proud of me,” I say.
“I’m always proud of you. You’re amazing.”
I pause because he means it. He really means it. “Thank you. I think you’re amazing too.”
He just smiles.
“I made some friends today.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. Remember how the idea of summer holidays was so exciting when we were kids?” I ask, taking a sip of iced water.
“Freedom. Fun. They were all good.”
“And some years they’d just be perfect. The weather and spending time with the right people and everything came together. This summer feels sort of like that…”
“You’re right, it does.”
There’s such warmth in his gaze. Almost enough to distract me from the many sets of eyes still watching us from the bar.
And there seem to be more of them now. I know we’re often the subject of attention due to shenanigans and brouhaha, along with how beautiful and special the man sitting opposite me is. This, however, seems extreme.
I cock my head “What’s going on? Did something happen I don’t know about?”
“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me tell you again. You shine brighter than the stars, my light,” he says, making flickering finger motions in front of my face. “It’s like you twinkle.”
Which is when I notice something. “What happened to your watch? You’re always wearing it.”
He winces.
“Nash…”
“You know Gordon?” he asks.
“The guy who owns the antique store?”
“Yeah. We got to talking after morning meditation and he admired my watch. I said I inherited it off some distant relative and didn’t know much about it,” he says.
“It probably would have been prudent for me not to have worn it here, because it’s worth some money.
Anyway…Gordon had heard about our pretend progeny and wanted to help me out. Sort of.”
“Help you in what way?” I ask. “Did he offer to buy it?”
“Not quite.”