Whiskey and Country

Tucker’s deep laughter filled the line before we hung up.

Soon my thoughts drifted to Dahlia.

As if she’d read my mind, she sent me a text message. And a picture.

She and Jack eating cookies.

Dahlia: You should have at least kept one. These are amazing. Can I join the kid’s workshop? I’d do anything for cookies.

I sat back on the step, my stare locked on their happy grins, as my thumbs typed.

Me: You like cookies? My bad, I pictured you more as a joystick kinda woman.

Dahlia: Dear god. You’re the worst.

Nick: You make it too easy for me. Anyway, woman, you have a little green frosting at the corner of your lips. If you were here, I’d take care of it.

I pressed send, loving the flirting we indulged in. Since the barn and the double-date happened, I wasn’t so sure about us staying friends for much longer.

Dahlia: Wish you were here with us

Dahlia: Can we talk tonight?

Me: Wine and midnight talk? Sounds good.

I pictured Dahlia laughing with her head tilted back.

Dahlia: Let’s say nine o’clock chat and wine. Deal?

Me: I’ll be there.

Dahlia: It’s a date then.

* * *

At eight fifty-seven, my phone went off. Not that I had been checking the time. Okay, I’d been. My pulse raced when Dahlia’s face appeared on the screen. A hot wave washed through me. Great. Now I felt like a teenager going on my first date.

I scratched the column of my throat before answering and smoothed my T-shirt as if Dahlia could see me.

“Hey you,” I said the moment I accepted the call.

“Hey Nick, free for our chat and wine?” she asked, her voice low, with a hint of a smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Since I don’t have the honor of picking you up, I have a few questions for you first.”

“Go ahead. Hit me.”

My lips curled. “It’s just one, in fact. What are you wearing?” I asked, slouching on the couch, my feet resting on the square ottoman.

Dahlia’s sharp intake of breath resonated through the phone, followed by a chuckle. “It’s not really sexy, but it’s comfy. Cartoon PJ pants and a T-shirt Jack painted for Mother’s Day. It’s a modern kinda piece of art with blue as the main theme. Very fancy and unique. Every designer’s dream.”

“You should frame it. Could be worth a fortune someday.” My phone pinged, and a photo of Dahlia, gorgeous with her hair loose and rosy cheeks, her wineglass in hand, and wearing that piece of clothing, filled the screen. “Yeah, I agree, definitely museum material. Jack is awesome.”

“He is. Being pregnant at twenty was a surprise, but in the end, it was for the best. He’s the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. As if life knew I’d need him to keep living. Now your turn to send me a picture. You’ve seen my outfit. Let me see yours.”

I pointed the camera of my phone at me and smiled. Okay, I looked stupid. I ran a hand over my face and tried again.

It took me about five poses to get a good enough result. “You know, I’ve never done this before,” I said.

“What? Being charming over the phone?”

I sipped my wine, shaking my head. “No. Sending a selfie to someone… Well, no, I mean a woman.”

“So, I’m your first?”

“You are.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Dahlia teased.

And, for some stupid reason, it made me proud. And at that moment, I missed being able to touch her. To kiss her. To hold her.

“Please don’t judge me if I didn’t nail it. I might need a couple more tries.” I lowered my voice. “Or a private lesson.”

“Nick, stop. You’re perfect.” Her gravelly voice turned my insides to mush. “Nice shirt, by the way. I’d grade you nine over ten.”

“God, you’re a tough one to please. I’ll note that. But you subtracted a point. Why?”

“The lighting. There’s a shadow on your left side. Other than that, it would have been a perfect shot. I’ll still keep it, though.”

Dahlia’s laughter lit up a thousand fires in the depths of me.

“I had no idea you were also a photography critic. Is there something you can’t do?” I asked, taking another sip.

“A million things. But you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

My playfulness left me, my tone serious, every one of my cells vibrating. “I can’t wait to learn about them. I’m sure you’re being hard on yourself.”

“We’ll see. You’ll be allowed to grade me.” A pause. “Nick, thank you.”