He lets out a laugh. “Actually I was trying to find out if you’re single.”
“She is!” Elle shouts from the kitchen. I just got very lightheaded.
“Brilliant.” Eric grins and laces his fingers together on the counter before him. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“I…”
“Eight it is.” He responds. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Or seven, is seven better for you?”
“No…”
“She finishes at six!” Elle shouts and I make a mental note to kick her bony arse later.
“You have customers Elle!” I shout back through gritted teeth and turn back to Eric. “I can’t, I have to…” Where’s he gone? What the hell? I see him climbing into a silver car that’s parked outside the store window.
“He ran when you turned.” Elle explains unnecessarily when I stare dumbfounded at the doorway.
Grumbling profanities to myself, I stomp into the kitchen, my face flamed red and my irritation in the danger zone.
“You’ll thank me later.” Elle calls, not caring that the three customers who were waiting to be served no doubt know that I’m going on a date later.
Oh my god! I’m going on a date later!
“Are you okay?” Valentine asks, clearly sensing my mood.
No I’m not. “Fine.”
For somebody who doesn’t want to go on a date, I certainly took extra care keeping myself ingredient free. It’s now five fifty three and I’m as nervous as Santa in a whorehouse.
Stop fidgeting. Stop shaking. Stop… just stop everything.
I can handle that.
The bell above the door chimes and in walks Eric, looking gorgeous in dark blue jeans and a white shirt. “Hi.” He looks slightly nervous, almost as nervous as me. I kind of feel bad for the guy now. “Are you ready?”
“You insisted on picking me up from work.” I look down at my almost ingredient free clothing. “So nope, I’m not ready.”
Ducking under the counter, I gulp when he steps towards me and offers his hand. I don’t know why but I take it and allow him to pull me closer. He bends forward and plants his soft lips against my cheek, inhaling at the same time. “You smell like cookies.”
“You sniffed me?” I remark, not sure whether to freak out or swoon.
“You work in a bakery. My first though was ‘I bet she smells just like one’.”
Blink. “What an odd first thought to have.” Or is it? I’m uncertain how the male mind works.
He laughs silently and pulls me out of the store. “So, my full name is Eric Smith. I’ll be your date for the evening.”
Huh, he doesn’t open my car door for me. I’m not sure if I like that. Or maybe I’m used to a custom that only exists in the Weston males. That’s okay though, because I’m not getting in the car or going on a date.
“Problem?” He asks, still smiling.
I nod and decide to blurt it out. “I have to get home to my son.”
“Your son?” At first I can see that he thinks I’m joking, but when he takes in my serious expression he looks mostly shocked. “Oh.”
“Yeah, he’s eleven weeks old and my mum is looking after him while I work. I’m living with her until I can afford my own place.”
He just gawps at me, rather rudely I might add. “Eleven weeks old? Where’s his dad?”
I should just tell him. I probably won’t see him again. It’s for the best. “His dad died when I was four months pregnant, in bed beside me.” Now he looks even more stumped. I point back to the store. “They don’t know that. I tried to tell you earlier but… well you kind of ran off.”
He remains silent for a moment, “Ah. So I’m guessing that’s who the ring is from?” Don’t cry, don’t speak, only nod. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” He says softly, resting his arms on the roof of the car that still separates us. “Can I give you a ride home?”
Shaking my head, I take a step back. “No, that’s okay. I only live around the corner. I’m really sorry for messing you around.”
“You didn’t.” His smile is reassuring. “It’s my fault for getting ahead of myself. I knew you’d say no; I just never put much thought into why.”
“Sorry Eric, and thanks again for bringing my ring back.”
“Please let me give you a lift? My guilt is gnawing at my insides.” He tilts his head and smiles again. This time it’s a real one, an easy one.
Should I? “Maybe next time.” I duck my head and turn away.
“Good night, Guinevere.” He calls. I wave at him without looking back and pick up the pace.
The first thing I do when I get home is pick up Dillan and lie in bed with him on my chest. I need my anchor right now. I need him bad.
His wrinkly forehead bobs up and down as he raises his head off my chest and looks at me with familiar eyes. I smile at his open mouthed smile and kiss his tiny nose, speckled in little white milk spots. “I love you baby Weston. Never forget.”
The week goes by and I don’t hear from Nathan, nor do I hear from Eric. This is good. It allows my mind a break from endless unnecessary thoughts.
Dillan is such a smiley baby. I love it, especially when I wake up in the morning and he’s looking at me through the gaps of his cot, smiling at the fact I’m awake and ready to feed him.
I wonder vaguely if Nathan was as happy as Caleb and Dillan before his grandfather destroyed him. Unwillingly, my memory conjures the images that I was exposed to when watching the home movie. I remember Nathan before his grandfather did what he did. He was happy, excited even.
That poor boy.
Poor Nathan. I just want to hold him and cry for him, but I know he won’t appreciate that.
“You still haven’t told us how your date went. I’ve been waiting and waiting.” Elle smirks and pops a chocolate ball into her mouth. “Oh my god. Heaven in ball form.”
Rolling my eyes good naturedly, I help her place the fancy trays full of treats into the display fridge. “I didn’t go on a date.”
“But I thought…”
I wave her off. “Don’t think about it. It’s not a big deal. I’m just not in that ‘dating mood’ right now.” Whatever the hell that is.
“There is something seriously wrong with you if you can’t get in the dating mood for a guy like that.” If only she knew. “That boy is tastier than your Sunday cookies.”
“Liar.” I snigger and close the display. “If you like him so much, why don’t you date him?”
“Babe, I’m almost thirty five and I have a partner who I love dearly.” She winks at me with a smile. “This is why I need to live vicariously through you.” Clasping her hands under her chin, she pouts dramatically. “Please, oh please, please, please date him and tell me all of the details.”
“You’re shameless.” I laugh and smack her on the arm. “Move it. I have cookies that are going to burn if you don’t.”
“Can’t let her burn our precious cookies.” Tiffany interjects, as if the thought is worse than the world ending, and pulls a still begging Elle out of the way.