Jared checked his outfit for the eighth time. He hadn’t been on a real date in over two years. Not one that mattered. Were his khakis and a chambray button-down good enough? He’d purchased new shoes for tonight, and the insoles didn’t form to his feet yet.

If he hadn’t been impulsive, he could have asked her out for a day next week. That would have given him more time to prepare. But, waiting had never been his forte. Once he got an idea, he ran with it.

He checked his phone. Five minutes to six. Time to get going. He shoved his phone and wallet into his pants’ pocket then grabbed his keys from the counter. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door. Turned right back around.

A small bouquet of flowers sat on the counter. He’d picked them out at the florist next to the shoe store. Another impulse, but one he didn’t regret, especially if it made Sybil smile. She’d spoken of her insecurities, but he sensed they ran deeper than she admitted. He wanted her to know her worth, that she wasn’t the sum of her past mistakes or bitter childhood.

His renewed relationship with God had helped him out of a pit deeper than he’d been able to crawl out of on his own. The freshness hadn’t worn off, and he prayed it never did. Because he’d experienced the life-changing power of leaning on Him, he wanted the same for Sybil.

But he’d have to take it slow and approach it with caution. Any talk of church made her skittish, the same with her friend Rysa. He didn’t know the whys, but he intended to break through the walls.

All that aside, his primary objective for tonight was to spend time with Sybil. Yes, he wanted her to find peace in God and to know her value, but they didn’t play as ulterior motives for the date tonight.

Plain and simple, he liked her. A sweetness lurked behind the façade she’d erected. Her quips and easy comebacks made him laugh and kept conversation interesting. She was a complex woman, but he looked forward to unraveling the layers to find the true Sybil.

He grabbed the flowers—he’d paid extra for the set already in a vase—and ran out the door. As he pulled into Sybil’s driveway a minute later, he cringed, realizing he’d forgotten to lock his front door. Making a stop back at his house wasn’t the way he’d hoped to start the evening.

Don’t let the small things get you down. He took his conscience’s advice and reached for the flowers. Holding them in one hand, he rang the doorbell with the other.

Sybil opened the door. A bashful smile flitted across her face. “Right on time.”

“These are for you.” He handed her the flowers, watching for her reaction, hoping to see a brighter smile.

“Thank you.” She lifted them to her nose, then immediately began sneezing. “Oh, no.”

“What?” His chest tightened in fear that he’d made a monumental error.

“It’s been so long since anyone’s given me flowers, that I forgot I’m allergic to baby’s breath.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He reached to take them back. “I’ll get rid of them.”

“No.” She pulled them back to her. “They’re beautiful, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness. If I don’t get too close to them, I should be fine.”

Judging by her initial strong reaction, he wasn’t convinced, but who was he to say anything? “Next time, I’ll remember. Any other allergies I should be aware of?”

“Cefaclor, but I doubt you’ll ever need to know that.”

He furrowed his brows. “What is that?”

“An antibiotic that makes me break out in hives.”

“I’ll tuck that information away for the future.” He allowed his gaze to travel over her, lingering at the small swell of her stomach. “You look great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Her shy smile reappeared, and she lowered her gaze to the flowers. “I’ll put these on the counter, then we can go.”

After several hitches—the allergic reaction and locking his door—they were on their way. He drove off the side roads and onto Highway 24, following it beyond Camp Lejeune and going into Swansboro.

“How far are we going?” Sybil watched out the windows, taking in the sunset’s reflection on the water.

“Not much further.”

Their destination came into view—The Riverside Bistro. Thirty seconds later he pulled into a small parking lot to the side of a two-story house which had been converted to a restaurant. Reservations were required, not from a lack of space, but due to the owner’s wish to maintain a private setting for patrons. Jared had been lucky to call the restaurant minutes after they’d received a cancellation.

“This is beautiful.” Sybil’s gaze shifted from the restaurant to the White Oak River it sat beside. “I’ve never been here, but every time I pass it, I think how beautiful and romantic it is. The candles lit in the window, and the gently rippling water make it a scene straight from a movie.”

He dared sliding an arm around her waist as they walked through the gravel. “I’m glad you approve.”

“I would have enjoyed any place you chose.” She cast a fond smile his way, and his heart responded with hard thuds against his chest.

Slow down. You’re still in a learning stage. Taking a calming breath, he kept his arm around Sybil, escorting her up the stairs and into the entry.

Once inside, they followed the hostess up a gorgeous winding staircase. Each floor had only five tables, and there were two outside on the deck. He would have preferred dining inside and walking on the pier afterward, but the canceled reservation was for outside on the second-floor balcony, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When their hostess led them out the rear door and onto the deck, Sybil’s smile broadened.
“I love outdoor dining, especially when the weather’s this perfect.”

Thank You, Lord, for being in the details. “I’m glad you like it.”

After they’d been seated, he picked up the menu and skimmed it. “Their steaks are hand-cut and all the seafood is locally caught when possible.”

“I’ve heard nothing but great reviews about it.” She inhaled and released the breath at a slow pace. “The smells coming from the kitchen are making me hungry.”

“Would you like an appetizer?”

“I’ve always had a weakness for crab dip, and I bet it’s amazing here.”

“Your wish is my command.” He paused and twisted his lips. “Wait, isn’t shellfish off limits?”

A hearty laugh erupted from the depths of her stomach. She covered her mouth, composed herself, then shook her head. “If you’re referring to the call from Rysa earlier, then rest assured, that was a ruse and shellfish is safe for me to eat.”

His stomach twisted a notch—he didn’t like being the butt of a joke. “What kind of ruse?”

Sybil must have seen his dismay and rushed to assure him. “Nothing serious. I called her in a snit, and melodramatically claimed I had nothing to wear. She called you without my knowledge to find out where we were going so I’d wear appropriate attire.”

Her explanation placated him, and he admitted to himself his own reaction had been overblown. His ego also received a boost in knowing that she’d worried about what to wear. It meant she cared, at least to some degree. “So, you can have shellfish?”

“Yes. It’s fish that are high in mercury that are off-limits.”

“Like tuna and swordfish?”

She nodded. “To be honest, all the ones that are off limits are my least favorites, so it’s easy to abide by that rule. Caffeine and lunch meat are more difficult.”

“I appreciate the care you’re taking for our baby.” He grinned. “Here’s a deal—the day you give birth, I’ll run out and get you everything you want that’s been on the no-no list.”

Laughing, she held out a hand. “It’s a deal.”

They shook on it, and he returned his attention to the menu. “Hmm, steak or seafood?”

Her eyes twinkled. “How about the rib eye with crab meat on top?”

“I like the way you think.”

“Ooh, they also have a steak topped with shrimp scampi.” She laid her menu aside. “That’s what I’m getting, and I’m not looking anymore, or I’ll keep changing my mind because it all sounds tempting.”

He debated between the salmon Oscar and porterhouse topped with his choice of seafood. When their waitress approached, he gave their appetizer order, plus Sybil’s meal choice. “If you had to choose, would you get the salmon Oscar or porterhouse with stuffed butterfly shrimp?”

“That’s easy.” The waitress’s eyes lit up. “Both are great choices, but out stuffed butterfly shrimp are award-winning. Five years in a row, they’ve been voted the best on the crystal coast.”

“That’s what I’ll take, then.” He handed her the menu. “Thank you.”

“Have you ever been crabbing?” Sybil asked out of the blue, a few minutes later after their drinks and a bowl of yeast rolls had arrived.

He chuckled at the randomness. “Wyoming doesn’t offer any spots for that.”

“You’ve been in North Carolina ten years, haven’t you?”

“I feel old when you put it that way.”

“Watch it, Buster. You’re only a year and a few months older than me.” She fluttered her lashes and sipped her water.

“I didn’t say I am old, only that I felt old. Big difference.” He shot her a smug grin. “Have you been?”

“Not in years. My mom took me a few times when I was little.” She stared over his shoulder, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Those are some of the rare happy memories that I have.”

His heart went out to her. Kids should be protected, not drawn into their parents’ drama. “Did you catch any?”

“Some.” A bittersweet smile replaced her frown of seconds earlier, and she nodded in the direction of the patio door. “Speaking of crabs, here comes our dip.”

They fell into silence while they ate, making small comments occasionally that revolved around their meals. What conversation they had remained light and unintimidating. They declined dessert, he left a generous tip with payment, and then they walked down the wooden steps to the pier.

It jutted thirty feet into the water and had several benches. The sun had disappeared and now the moon danced on the water. A cool breeze blew in from the river, setting a subtle chill against his skin.

“Tonight’s been perfect.” Sybil sat on a bench and pulled her jacket closed. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for saying yes.” He lowered himself to sit beside her. Their arms brushed against each other.

The location was perfect. The setting ideal.

Was it the right time?

He changed his position so he could look directly at her. “We get along well.”

An odd expression colored her face. “Yes. A pleasant surprise, right?”

“Yes.” He chuckled nervously. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What?” she asked with a wary tone.

“We should get married.”

She snorted. “Funny.”

“I’m serious.” He wrapped her hand around his. “I think, deep down, you know you can be a good mother, but you’re scared to raise her alone, but you don’t have to. We can get married and give our daughter a family. Her family. We are what’s best for her.”

Her jaw tensed, and she swallowed. “I’m not marrying you.”

“Why not?” He couldn’t stop pressing. In his gut, he believed this was the course to take.

“Marriage is forever, and I know even less about keeping a marriage going than I do raising a child.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and paused a second. “We’d end up divorced and bitter, and I won’t put our daughter through that.”

“We can have forever if we enter this with a clear head. What stronger bond is there than a child together?”

“Love, Jared. Plenty of people have kids and get divorced. Even people who are in love get divorced.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with regret? Longing? Anger? “Marriage is messy. I want nothing to do with it.”

“Of course it will fail if you go into it with that attitude.” For all the progress he thought he’d made in getting close to her, he realized her walls were impenetrable. For now. But he wasn’t giving up.

“It’s not happening.” She yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms.

“Will you consider it at least? Look at the great time we had tonight.” He gently touched her chin and guided her face to look at him. “Can you deny that we connect on a deep level?”

The muscle in her cheek twitched. “Take me home. Now.”

She was up and almost off the pier before he came out of his stupor—leaving him scratching his jaw.

He jogged to catch up with her. “Was I wrong to ask you to marry me?”

“That’s not it.” She turned around, hurt etched on every plane of her face. “You manipulated me.”

His voice dropped to a controlled whisper. “What are you talking about?”

She threw her arms in the air. “This. Tonight. You didn’t want a date, but a chance to lure me to your side of keeping our daughter. You’re no different from every other man—you all have ulterior motives.”

Stunned, he couldn’t formulate an immediate response. Although he desperately wanted to keep their daughter, he wouldn’t use her to get his way. He could tell she wouldn’t believe him, so how much explaining should he attempt?

He reached to lay a hand on her arm, but she jerked away. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I in any way led you to believe I had any intentions for tonight other than spending time with you. The idea of marriage has floated around for several weeks, and when I saw how well we connected, it seemed the time to ask; but I promise, I’d never mislead or use you.”

“Please just take me home.” She turned around, but not before he saw her brush a tear from her eye.

“Okay.” Dejection hovered over him. What could he do if she refused to believe him?

Help me out here, Lord. What do I do?

Trust in Me, came the still nudge to his soul.

He walked beside her to the land side of the pier.

She refused his assistance up the steps and walked to the truck without a backward glance at him. When he unlocked the doors, she jumped in and hurried to shut the passenger door beside her.

The silent treatment continued the entire ride home. When he parked in front of her house, he expected at least a brief comment, something like “we’ll talk later,” or “see you at next week’s appointment,” but she got out without a word.

As always, he watched her until she’d safely entered her house, and then drove home, frustrated and disappointed with the evening’s outcome. He should have kept his mouth shut. He’d spoken too soon and scared her away.

Later that night, as he lay in bed replaying the events, he sent her a message, apologizing again.

He fell asleep waiting for a reply.