Falling at First Sight

“Mrs. Morgan, how are you?” I give her the largest smile I can and do my best to pretend that there isn’t anything at all weird about this.

“Wonderful,” she says and her gaze slips down to my dress. “Don’t you look as pretty as a peach in June.”

The smile on my face is genuine when I tell her thank you and then add, “And thank you for watching Henry.”

“Trust me,” she says and stands upright, watching Henry run off to the flower bed where Chase is currently stacking rocks and knocking them down with some Transformer or other plastic figure of some sort I’m sure cost twenty bucks or more. “It will be easier on me for Chase to have a friend to keep him occupied.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking her,” Trent says and slips a hand on my lower back as he adds, “She’d kill me if I let someone else watch him on her weekend with Chase.”

His mother gestures with a hand before I can say anything and she writes us off with a wave as she says, “Enjoy your date.”

There’s this thing about a small town and how people talk. Word spreads and even the most innocent of things can turn scandalous.

That’s probably why the only words I can think of right now are that it’s not a date. But I know very well it is, so instead I stand there, watching the woman who used to watch me take a seat in a lawn chair and call out for us to have fun.

This is the specific time my friend group calls the moment. The one where you know you’re really on a date and it’s happening. So either you turn back, or you run full steam ahead.

“Your car or mine? I would immediately go to mine, but since it’s not a date-date …”

“What?”

“You just muttered it’s not a date-date,” Trent says jokingly and with him next to me, standing there, I have to crane my head to look up at him. Even in these wedge sandals.

Standing there in the late summer warmth that’s quickly fading into an early fall evening chill, I’m lost in his amber eyes for just a moment.

“If I had it my way, it’d be a date-date, you know?” he says, the confession sounding like it’s something sinful.

The boys yelling out on behalf of the toy men in their hands breaks me from the spell Trent is so darn good at putting me under.

“Henry is already chanting that we’re dating.” I’m busy tucking my hair behind my ear when Trent replies, “That’s my little man.”

I can’t deny it does something to me, listening to him talk about son like that. Little butterflies make my stomach flip and I can see a happily ever after with him. Already. I haven’t even had my kiss yet.

As he asks me, yet again, whose car we’re taking since I still have my keys in my hand, I come to a very real observation.

Dating a man you really want to hold on to for more than one night is completely terrifying.

Trent

With dim, candlelit lighting, modern furniture draped in plush velvet, and the other guests dressed to the nines, Blue Bay is the fanciest restaurant this town has to offer. And the only one I can imagine taking Autumn to tonight. Even if she did drive and refer to this evening as not a date-date, this is an official first date. And judging by her shyness and the quiet thank you as I push her chair in, Autumn is very much aware of that.

With the din of chatter and clink of silverware surrounding us, the waiter takes our drink order.

A glass of chardonnay for Autumn. I make a mental note of which wine she’s having. If my father taught me anything before passing, it’s that love is in the details. Small gifts that bring memories will go a long way. I intend to have that with the woman I share my life with.

I’m almost certain it’s Autumn.

Every moment with her, the tension gets thicker.

Every moment without her, she’s all I can think about.

“This is a really nice place,” she says and her voice is gentle with more than a hint of gratitude as she lays the napkin across her lap.

“This is the only place I thought to take you tonight.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised.

“You’re a single mom and from what I can tell, a workaholic.” I answer her with complete honesty. “When’s the last time you treated yourself to a night out?”

“I have my friends. We do get-togethers … but not like this.”

“Exactly.”

“So you want to spoil me?” She lays the question out as if it’s a joke.

“Most definitely,” I answer with as much charm as I can manage. The nerves are gone, the fears of ruining this with her nowhere in sight. It’s just me and her and a date that is long overdue. “I really like you and I wanted to make sure I made that clear tonight.”