I can feel myself trying to sprint. Slow down. Turtle speed, remember?
But maybe I can at least text her when we get there about tween bra sizes. Would she think that’s weird?
EVIE: OMG. I loved my first bra. Get her a white one and a gray one so she has something to wear with both a light and dark outfit. Size: Small. No underwire and nothing with the words “push up” unless you want to have a heart attack. And whatever you do, get in and get out as quickly as possible without saying anything remotely close to “My baby girl is growing up so fast.”
So…I guess she doesn’t find it weird. And now I look like a major perv, standing in the girls’ bra aisle, smiling like a lunatic.
I drop Sam off at Jenna's house with a backpack filled to the brim with turquoise-and-white PJs that have some kind of sequined koala face on the front of the shirt and the words “Don’t wake me until noon” on the back. She talked me into not only a white and a gray training bra, but also a pink.
All in all, I think I’ve kinda crushed the single-dad thing today.
When we pull up in front of Jenna’s house, Sam tells me I can stay put in the truck. I suggest dropping her off a block away so she can walk back—that way, no one will even need to know that she has a dad. And she just replies with a simple, “Not this time,” like it wasn’t even a joke and she was really contemplating it.
She’s in for a treat if she thinks, for one second, that I won’t be sitting a row behind her at the movies on her first date.
Sam jumps out of my truck with Daisy in tow and her bag strapped on her back. She darts toward the house with one of her friends that has also just told her parents to keep the car running and drive off as soon as her feet hit the grass. But my kid—the good one—pauses and looks back at me. She comes sprinting back and jumps up onto the running boards of my truck to kiss my cheek through the open window. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, Sam. Have fun. Call me if...” I let the statement dangle because, somehow, I’m afraid that if I say the words out loud, I’ll be responsible for a seizure if she has one.
She smiles and nods. “I will.”
And then my little girl goes into her friend’s house for her first ever slumber party. My heart squeezes painfully, and I’m glad now more than ever that I had the forethought to plan a date to distract me tonight.
I put the truck in drive, and I’m headed home to get ready for my date with Evie when my phone buzzes with an incoming text. A text that makes my stomach plummet to the ground.
NATALIE: Headed back from Hawaii soon. Thinking of coming to visit when I get back. Hug Samantha for me. <3
Chapter Twenty-Two
EVIE
Jake asked if I wanted him to come pick me up for our date, but I thought that would be silly for him to come all the way over to my place and get me, only to drive right back to his house. We went three rounds until he gave up and let me call an Uber. But he was adamant that he was going to pay for it.
Now, I’m very aware that society would tell me to stand up for myself and own my female empowerment by showing him that I can take care of myself monetarily. But since I’m broke, I’ve decided that there’s room enough for me to feel empowered and also let Jake feel like a hero. It’s a give and take.
He’s giving me his money, and I’m taking it.
I’ll act more empowered next time.
The Uber pulls up in front of Jake’s magazine-worthy farmhouse, and I’m still in disbelief that I get to even go inside this home, let alone date the man that owns it. (Don’t get all judgy right now. I’m not after Jake for his money or his belongings—I’m after his abs.)
Charlie and I get out of the Uber, and I tug on my high-waisted jeans to put them back in their correct placement of hugging my butt and trimming my waist. I paired them with a cute pale-pink blouse, and I won’t lie, I’m feeling pretty adorable right now. I even took the time to curl my hair in long, loose waves. I look like a walking ad for a beachy-waves hair product, and I wonder how I got so lucky to not wake up with a zit today.
Everything feels too good. I’m still waiting for that hammer to drop while also trying to be more optimistic like Jo suggested.
I ring the doorbell, and the feel of my heart thudding in my chest helps me count the seconds it takes for Jake to answer the door. Ten.
As he’s opening the door, my nervousness overcomes me, and I wonder if it’s too late to play ding-dong-ditch and hide in the bushes. Yeah, it’s too late. He’s seen me. And OH BOY, do I see him.
“Hi,” he says in a sultry voice with a smirk that says, Yeah, I know I look hot. He puts Garrett’s paltry little “hi” to shame. Jake is tall and muscular, and he’s wearing a form-fitting, slate-blue shirt and day-old stubble on his jaw. His jeans are dark and trim, and I’m sure that he has them tailored to fit him like a glove. I like this look on him. No, I love it.
“Hi yourself,” I say, and NOPE, sultry doesn’t sound good on me. I sound delusional and like I have a throat bubble.
I’m just considering jumping into the bushes again when Jake steps out to where I’m standing and captures me around the waist. He leans down and brushes my cheek with a kiss from his deliciously scratchy jaw and whispers in my ear, “You look beautiful.”
Well, okay then. I guess I’ll stay.
I smile against his cheek, and then he releases me to pat Charlie on the head and take my hand, pulling me inside. The smell of herbs and spices fills my senses, and the sound of Leon Bridges plays softly from the speakers in the ceiling. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s turned on the very album I was listening to the night he came over.
The lights are dimmer than normal, and my body is hyperaware that Sam is not home, and this is officially Jake the Man’s house and not Jake the Dad. My nerves are humming, and buzzing, and ping-ponging with excitement, and suddenly, I don’t know what to do with my hands. They don’t make real pockets on women’s jeans, so I’m forced to clasp them behind me like a kindergartener who’s been told not to touch anything.
“Come on in; I’m just finishing up a few things.” He goes into the kitchen, and I follow a few paces behind him, afraid to say anything.
Someone please tell me what to do right now! I’ve stood in this kitchen dozens of times. I’ve spent the last few weeks talking to Jake every single day. But this feels different. The air is different. It’s rich with anticipation.
It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a date. Even longer since I’ve been on a date with a man I liked. Or a man that looked and acted like Jake. No one should look that sexy holding a ladle and stirring a pot. He’s a safety hazard.
I decide to give in to my awkward and plaster myself in the farthest corner of his kitchen. The cold marble cuts through my shirt and stings at my lower back, but I don’t care. I’m not moving. “How was Sam when you dropped her off?” I manage to squeak out.
Jake taps the wooden spoon against the side of the pot and sets it down. He takes note of me standing alllll the way across the room and smirks. “Great. She looked so happy running in with all her friends. I’m glad I let her go.” He goes toward the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. How did he know that was my favorite? “Want a glass?”