“Same … well, not about living here.” I guess she likes the way I add in the correction because she laughs and leans in, ready for more. The conversation is easy, the atmosphere gentle and coaxing. Any tension that was present before vanishes. She kept her word, giving me my chance.
“I’m going sailing this weekend. Come with me,” I say, inviting her with all the confidence I have and that requires a sip of beer and then another as she hesitates to answer.
“Sail away with you?” She laughs softly into her drink and the waiter comes back just then. Nathanial asks if she’d like another drink.
I know I have her when she nods a yes.
“My buddy Griffin is coming, but it’s just us. Soaking up some sun and maybe taking a dip.”
“Mm-hmm.” Magnolia’s attention leaves me as a rectangular plate of bruschetta is placed in front of us.
She’s more than eager to take a piece and I join in. The crunch of the toasted bread and drizzle of balsamic is addictive.
“Good, right?” she says and grins around the last bit from her small piece, then pops it in her mouth.
Something about her smile, about the way she licks the tip of her finger afterward has my cock twitching in my jeans. She makes me feel like I’m in high school all over again. Like I’m some puppy dog she already has on a leash.
“Damn good,” I respond and let my gaze fall a little south of her chin. Her laugh brings a wide smile to my lips and she pretends like she’s going to toss her napkin at me.
This is exactly what I remember from that night. Not the conversation, but the feeling that stirs inside of me.
I wanted her, and she wanted me. That’s really all there was to it. With a soft hum and her posture more at ease, I give her a compliment, telling her, “I like your hair that way.”
She brightens and with the way her hand twitches, I bet she’d have touched her hair to help her remember how she did it if she wasn’t so self-conscious.
“Sun-kissed, I mean. It suits you.” The blush on her cheeks is sweet and it makes me smile.
“There’s a little more sun down here than up north, huh?” I love that hint of a Southern accent in her voice.
“That’s not the only reason I like it down here,” I say, letting my voice drop and wink at her.
“Stop,” she says and blushes again, more vibrant and bashful.
“There’s also sailing. Don’t forget,” I add, toying with her still and she outright playfully smacks me. The sense of ease is settling between us and everything is feeling more right than it has before now.
“Just kidding,” I tell her and snag another piece of bruschetta.
As she laughs, I’m drawn back to that moment years ago, when she fell into my arms and then into bed with me. So many nights I’ve dreamed of those soft sounds that slipped from her lips back then.
Before I can get too lost in the memory, she carries on the conversation after taking another bite of the bruschetta.
“How’d you guys meet?”
“Me and Griffin?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question about coming sailing with me. You could bring Renee,” I offer to sweeten the deal.
She laughs, but still doesn’t answer. Her legs sway slightly and she seems to contemplate it.
“I’m pretty damn good at sailing,” I tell her. “Promise I won’t crash.”
Although that gets me another laugh, she asks another question, rather than answering. “When’s the last time you went?”
“It’s been a bit.”
“How long’s a bit?”
“Too long. I’ve been really busy. Probably two years now. And the last time was the only time that year.”
“And you’re sure you won’t crash?” Yet again she follows up with another question, but judging by her tone, I’m almost certain she’s going to say yes.
“Cross my heart, I won’t crash.”
With a shy smile and not an ounce of that tension she had when she first sat down, she agrees to another date. “All right then. Sailing sounds like it could be fun.”
My grin is genuine and inwardly I pump my fist in the air. It’s a win. Another chance to show her who I am and find out more about this girl, the enigma that she is.
The rest of the night is just as relaxed. It’s almost like two friends who lost touch catching up. Although the small touches and the way she blushes certainly aren’t reserved for friendship. There’s a desire, a sense of want, and I feel it too. Just like the first time I met her.
The only thing I’d change if I could would be the way she dodged the goodnight kiss. Instead she left me hanging with a feminine chuckle before telling me she’d see me Sunday for sailing, reminding me that I’m not allowed to crash.
Magnolia
“I’m not allowed to have the Green Tea from Morgan’s anymore.” As I mumble into my phone, I roll over on my bed so I can watch Bridget stack the blocks. She’s been up since 5:00 a.m. and won’t go back to sleep.
Her curls bounce as she plays and she’s quiet and happy. It is what it is. Today I’m a tired mama.
“Oh, don’t blame the alcohol.”
“It’s absolutely the alcohol’s fault.” My words are a grumble and they fall flat. As flat as an open soda can left out overnight.
“Come on,” Renee says, trying to coax me, her chipper positive side coming out against all my doom and gloom. “We talked about this. You weren’t going to tell him. We decided that.”
“No,” I say, correcting her. “I decided I was going to tell him. Whether or not you want to ignore those texts I sent is on you. I was supposed to tell him. Come clean and make sure he knew.” It couldn’t wait for appetizers. But then again, apparently it could.
There’s a featherlight weight constantly fluttering in my chest. It hasn’t stopped and it gets in the way of my heart beating right. Worse than that, it hurts. I can’t stop staring at my daughter, knowing what she didn’t have. But also what Brody didn’t have. And I’m keeping it from him.
“First off, it’s been one date. Don’t be so hard on yourself. A PG date is hardly a time to drop a bombshell.” I roll my eyes at her “PG” comment and pick at the comforter. The last thing I wanted to do was lead him on. PG was the best I had to offer him.
“I’ve seen him three times now. The initial bumblefrick of a meet. At the gallery and then for two hours on a date.” There’s no excuse. The last statement goes unsaid because it’s stuck at the back of my throat as the guilt strangles me.
“You will tell him,” Renee insists and I nod at the ceiling in agreement. “You have every intention to … when the time is right.” I find myself nodding along with her.
Stretching my back, I take my time to sit cross-legged on my bed, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. The creak of the bed with my shifting weight gets Bridget’s attention. “Mommy tired,” my three-year-old tells the baby doll she’s propped up in front of my nightstand. Lifting the doll she aptly named “Dolly,” Bridget shakes the doll slightly as she commands me, “Go bed, Mommy. Is nap time.”