I put myself together and make my way up to my father’s room. He’s lying in bed, the low light flooding the room. He’s got his copy of our book resting nearby and his glasses in his hand.
“Ready to find out who the murderer is? I’m telling you, my theory is correct,” Dad says.
“Ha, there’s no way. I’m going with Klaus as the killer.”
I sit in the chair facing his bed and grab my copy of the same book to start the next chapter. This is a new part of my nightly routine; I don’t want to lose.
“So, what’s it like to work with Marley Omen?” Betsy asks from her spot on the kitchen stool beside me the next morning.
“Ah, you saw the photo of us on social media?” Marley Omen is one of the newest and rising stars of rock music. His manager hired me to paint him at the perfect level of bad boy rocker and sweet boy next door.
“Yes! He’s amazing, right?” Betsy is coming out of her skin in excitement to learn more about him. The guy is amazing, so it’s not a lie when I tell her so.
Most celebrities aren’t, and to be honest, my job is draining because of that. It’s not what I pictured myself doing. Being here in the mountain air and the country sun has done wonders for me despite the situation. It’s also reminding me of everything I left behind. My dreams.
Betsy and I continue to chat while we prepare lunch for Maverick and Dad. Everything is going so well now, and it continues throughout the rest of the morning and into the late evening when I’m getting ready for my date with Maverick.
I stop by Dad’s room before I head out.
“You look beautiful tonight.” Dad’s lying in bed, a bit too worn out to have dinner or read together tonight. He promised we would tomorrow night, and I’m to enjoy my date tonight with Maverick.
“Thank you.” I take a spot on the edge of the bed and squeeze his hand. “Do you need anything before I head out?”
“No, just want you to have fun.”
“I’m sure I will. Betsy has planned something. I don’t know what, but I’m sure it’ll be nice. Not that I know what she could have come up with to do in Kalispell.”
Dad watches, a serene, but tired look on his face. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“It’s the same for me. I’ve missed you and this place. Everything feels right here.”
I squeeze his hand and turn when there’s a knock on Dad’s door.
“Hello, you ready?” Maverick asks, his voice low.
I squeeze Dad’s hand and rise. “I am.”
“You two have fun tonight,” Dad says, and I blush just as I walk over to Maverick’s side.
“We will.” Maverick smiles then leans to the side. “Get some rest tonight.”
Maverick wraps his arm across my shoulder and pulls me out into the hall with him.
“So, where are we heading?” I try again because he’s closed-lipped about our date.
“You’ll see.” His arm is a welcomed weight across my shoulders, and it helps loosen any lasting tension I have. I called EmmaJean earlier to talk to her about this date. She didn’t love the idea of me going on a date with my ex and warned me to be careful.
Maverick opens the door for me, and I climb into the front of his truck. It’s an older model truck, the same one he had when we were dating. I remember this truck well—the lingering smell of his cologne that seems to have seeped into its cab.
He drives down the southern highway, the music playing at a gentle level in the background. It’s a twangy beat—another familiar memory. Maverick always listened to country music when he’d take us on late night road trips. We’d sneak away to the field on the northern edge of Kalispell. Being young and keeping our relationship secret from everyone required us to be sneaky.
Back then, he’d play his guitar and serenade me with his deep baritone under the star-filled night sky.
“Thanks for coming out tonight. How are you keeping up with the work you’re doing while here? They aren’t giving you trouble taking so much time off? I’m sure it’s hard to do your work remotely like this.”
Sometimes when Maverick is nervous, he rambles. I love it. “You’re welcome. Work’s okay. I’m doing as much as I can, and they’re very understanding of my situation.”
I’ve built up a good name for myself, but I also know it won’t work for much longer. I must work something else out or quit. I don’t care, I’m not leaving Dad behind.
“It sounds like you’ve got a good job then.”
“I do, but sometimes...” I pause and look out the window. “Never mind.”
“Don’t do that. You know you don’t have to sugarcoat things for me.”
It’s true. I don’t. But I feel like I need to defend myself. “The work’s just not what I pictured myself doing long term, but it’s okay to change ourselves as we get older.”
He glances my way. The sun is setting, but I can still catch the lift to the corner of his mouth. “We’ve both changed a lot. Nothin’ wrong with that,” he swears, though I know he wishes I’d have followed my first dream of photography. Sometimes, I wish I would have, too.
We lose ourselves in the conversation, and it flows naturally. We could always speak easily, but I realize we can when the conversation focuses on me, or lighter subjects, but he has trouble speaking about himself.
I open my mouth to ask more about his college classes, but Maverick pulls into an outdoor theater. I didn’t know Kalispell had a drive-in theater. He backs the truck in and parks facing away from the screen.
“You’re facing the wrong way,” I joke, but he just laughs and jumps out of the truck and comes around my side to open the door.
“We’re facing the right way—trust me.” With a hop down, I follow him toward the bed of the truck.
He puts the tailgate down and shuffles around the bed of the truck. He lays a blanket out first, followed with mounds of pillows.
“Hop in.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. The sun is setting the rest of the way, and the other trucks are a few spaces over, but not close enough for them to bother us.
“I hope you still like these.” He unloads a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and then grabs us both a bottle of water. It’s a picnic under the sunset where I can absorb the mountain air.
“It’s perfect.”
He takes a bite, swallows, and then shoots me a charming smile. “I’ll make sure Betsy knows.”
“She’s helped you set up the perfect date tonight.”
“She’s a good kid.” We find an easy conversation while we eat and busy ourselves with cleaning up when the opening credits start.
He gets comfortable, and I slide back. Without thought, I snuggle right under his arm and rest my head on his chest.
We watch the entire movie that way. His chest becomes my pillow, and his scent mingles with the air. He plays with the ends of my hair that rest on my shoulder. I couldn’t tell you what the movie’s about, but what I can tell you is how his heart beats in a steady rhythm. I can tell you how good he smells and how warm the breeze feels on my bare shoulder.
As the movie ends, I’m almost lulled to sleep in his arms. He shifts, causing me to groan. I don’t want to move because this place in his arms is perfect.