Fifteen years… they disappear in an instant when he reaches the gate with his heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with his jog to get there.
He makes a motion, and the gate slides open, removing the last barrier between them.
She’s dressed nicer than she was for either of the other dates, he notes, in jeans and a pretty pink blouse. Her hair is down, with well-defined curls flowing to her breasts. The style looks simple, but it takes effort and work. He discovered that in the spring after watching her detangle and diffuse it for a class presentation once. She’s also wearing makeup and carrying her new Aggretsuko purse.
“So I don’t know if you remember this,” she says and signs after the gate opens. “I was supposed to make you dinner back in April. But then those plans got scrapped when you took me to Washington D.C. instead. I thought maybe this third date could be a do-over.”
“You wish to make dinner for me?” Victor can barely get the signs out. There are so many emotions somersaulting inside of him, especially at the sight of her signing for the first time since April.
Dawn shrugs. “Yeah, I figured we’d take it back to the basics. Try to get to know each other again—but you know, without the weird fake husband power dynamic this time.”
“Operation Good as New 3.0,” he signs.
She hesitates but then agrees, “yes,” in CSL.
In CSL!
A Dragon must never act overly emotional. But Victor can’t keep the huge grin off his face.
However, her good cheer is replaced by a grimace when she looks up at his house. “Though now that I'm seeing how you’re living, I’m assuming you already have a world-class cook.”
Victor has thought so carefully about every word that’s come out of his hands while during these three August dates. But his reply to her worry flows easy and genuine. “I would rather a meal from you than any other cook in the world.”
The smile returns to her face, along with the reddened under tone flush that lets him know his answer has both embarrassed and pleased her.
“Okay,” she signs and says, biting her lip. “Why don’t you give me a tour of this place first. I got here way earlier than intended because there was only one bus coming up this way from New Jersey, and it left at, like, the butt crack of dawn.”
That piece of information shadows over a bit of Victor’s joy. He can’t say he’s happy that the Ferraros would allow her to come up here by herself and in a bus, no less.
But he reminds himself not to let her see his irritation. She’s given him a chance to lure her back into his web. He needs to pretend to be whoever she wants in order to seize that opportunity.
“First, breakfast, if that’s OK with you?” he asks, playing the part of the deferential gentleman she thinks she wants. “I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Me neither,” she says with another grin.
So they have breakfast together. Phantom’s still at the table when they arrive, but he makes himself scarce with just one look from Victor.
After that, he takes her into the house’s large galley kitchen and lets their chef know with his notes app that he can leave early tonight since his friend will be making him dinner.
Victor struggled to find the right word to classify Dawn in his note. One that wouldn’t tip his hand like “wife,” but at the same time wouldn’t let her think even for a second that he considered them exes.
“Why, of course!” the chef answers, his French accent trilling cheery and bright as he offers to show Dawn how to use the dual fuel range Wolf stove.
After that, Victor takes her around the rest of the house, showing her the gym, the entertainment room, plus the garden and guard’s quarters in back.
Dawn seems to love his home, and she asks many questions. Quite a few of which he has no answer to. Like how the gardens are maintained. They just are. Or how often cleaning ladies come through. He isn’t sure. What are the best things to do on the beach?
He can’t say. He’s always been so busy working that he’s never made time to go. As he struggles to answer her questions, Victor gets the feeling that if Dawn comes back to him, actually comes here to live, it will change his life for the better in every way.
Upstairs, he shows her his office space and all of the bedrooms, save his.
Just as he predicts, she asks about the one door she’s not allowed behind.
“That is my bedroom suite. I will only show it to you when we are truly reunited,” he answers, pinning her with a significant look.
Her face flushes again, and she glances away, backing down from the subject. But she doesn’t correct his use of “when” in his answer.