Chapter 38 Dawsen #2
“I’d love to.” I bring her hand to my lips and place a kiss on her soft skin. I love kissing Birdie’s mouth, but there’s not one thing on her I plan on leaving unkissed, but I’m taking it slow. I’m in no rush, because I’m planning on forever with this woman.
Jack Banks sidles up next to me as I’m uncorking and pouring a glass of wine for Birdie. The house is humming with chatter and laughter, and a faint hum of jazz. Jack’s voice is low, not a whisper, but quiet enough so that only I can hear him.
“Son, I’m so happy to see you and Birdie connecting.
The girl has had it bad for you since forever it seems like.
I love you like my own son, but I would be remiss if I didn’t give you a little warning.
I know your intentions are solid, but that’s my little girl.
I just want you to hear that from me, that I’m expecting you to take care of her well, and right.
” His voice wasn’t threatening, his tone was genuine and heartfelt.
And I respected the hell out of him for it.
I’d do the same thing if I had a daughter.
“Mr. Banks, every decision I make in my life going forward is going to be heavily weighed by the effect it would have on Birdie, good or bad. I don’t deserve her, in the slightest. But I plan on spending every last one of my days making sure she knows how important, respected and adored she is.”
Jack pulls me into a hug. “Good man.”
He taps my shoulder and picks up two glasses from the cart, pops the top off one of the bourbon bottles and pours the liquid into both glasses. He hands one to me, and lifts his, tapping his glass to mine. A silent toast. An understanding.
I finish pouring Birdie’s wine and make my way across the room to where she and Casey are sitting on the couch talking about Stephanie of all people. Lovely.
“Oh, here he is now. Maybe he can give us some insight to the inner bitch workings of Stephanie Smith.” Her annunciation of her name makes me laugh. These girls are not fans. That is for certain.
I hand Birdie her glass and lean against the wall, making myself comfortable. I take a sip of the bourbon and say, “I don’t think anyone understands the inner workings of Stephanie Smith. Why do you ask?”
“River is being a fucking idiot and traipsing her around the ranch, and people are talking. It’s just stirring up a lot of drama and to be honest, it’s unprofessional.” Casey spits out. There’s fire in her voice. And if I didn’t know any better, it sounds a lot like jealousy to me.
“Yeah, that sounds like her. To be honest, I don’t know her all that well. She’s from part of my past that I’m not super proud of and don’t like revisiting, especially with present company.” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
Birdie almost spits out her wine from laughing so hard.
“What are you laughing at? You cried yourself to sleep that one night you thought Dawsen booty called her while you were working on the mural.”
“Woah, woah.” I interject.
“I know, I’m laughing because I hate her so much and I’m trying to remain calm, but I feel a red mist coming over me.” Birdie says, rubbing her temples dramatically now.
I chuckle and realize I need to stop the runaway train that is these two girls on the topic of Stephanie.
“Ladies, can we not re-hash the past that I’m not particularly proud of?” I throw my hands up in defense.
They both cross their arms and almost in unison say, “Fine.” As they sip their drinks and continue giggling.
River saunters up beside me, “what are you guys talking about?”
“Your girlfriend.” Casey says without skipping a beat.
River, with the golden retriever energy, “Are you jealous, Casey?” He’s got a gleam in his eye, and I can tell he gets his rocks off by messing with Casey. It’s their thing. She hates him, he loves messing with her.
“Ew, absolutely not, stable boy.” Casey fires back at him, and they start their game of back and forth. I look over at Birdie, nod towards the entry way, signaling for her to follow me.
I’m waiting by the bottom of the staircase when Birdie rounds the corner. Her arms still crossed, and a pout is still on her face.
I’d be lying to say I didn’t find it sexy how jealous she is, especially because Birdie never has a reason to be jealous as far as I’m concerned.
I pull her close to me, and tip her chin up so that I can see into those big beautiful brown eyes.
“Birdie. I need you to know that you’re the only woman I want. Everyone before you was simply my way of killing time. I know that’s shitty sounding, but you’re it for me.”
She sighs, almost looking embarrassed by her reaction. “I’m sorry, I hate the jealous side of me. I wish I could control it better.”
I huff out a bit of laughter, because I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Here, I want to show you something.” I grab the gift off the foyer table and lead her up the stairs, down the hall and straight to her bedroom.
I’ve actually only been in her bedroom one time when we were in high school and River was convinced she had stolen his All Time Low CD, and he made me go with him to search for it when she wasn’t home.
Once we’re inside, I can’t help but laugh. Nothing is changed. Boy band posters plastered like wallpaper, makeup, nail polish and jewelry scattered across her vanity, and a huge pile of clothes draped over the chair in the corner.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” She smirks and waves her hand across her room like she’s presenting it to me.
“It looks the exact same as it did all those years ago.” I say, taking it all in. I can feel her eyes on me, like she’s confused.
“You’ve been in here before?! When?” She asks defensively, like she’s horrified.
“In high school. River thought you took one of his albums. We basically tore your room apart but luckily it was already torn apart so you didn’t notice.” I wink at her and she laughs.
“Sooo, what is that?” She bites her lip and eagerly points to the brown wrapped package I’m holding.
“It’s your Christmas present. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s homemade. But, it has a lot of meaning.” I extend the gift towards her, and she’s smiling, eyes locked on mine.
“You made me a present?” She says, like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.
“Yeah… It was… inspired.” Suddenly I’m nervous as she begins peeling back the wrapping.
She pulls out a binder, the cover photo is a simple sheet of white paper that I wrote the title on—“Our Book of Secrets”
Her face contorts into something confused, intrigued and excited. I love the way it looks. She moves over to the bed in a quick stride, pulls her feet up into a criss-cross position as she sets the binder on her lap and begins to flip it open.