Imiss you. I love you.”
I hadn’t been able to shake off those words since Reed said them to me, small as they were yet potent with meaning. They became my earworm, all in his voice.
Until…
“I believe in you.”
Grayson Shaw, the world famous artist, believes in me and my talent.
Driving home, I know that I could never share any of my art with Reed. I can’t bring it up with him tonight. He would laugh in my face, dismiss it as just a hobby.
Could Grayson see me shiver when our hands touched at the table? When we couldn’t stop looking at each other?
What was that?
I shake my head to clear all my thoughts as I pull into the driveway.
When I walk in, I see a gorgeous bouquet of pink roses on the kitchen table.
“Who are those from?” I ask Mom. She’s standing at the stove stirring something in a deep pot.
“I don’t know. They’re for you. They were on the stoop when I got home.”
I enter the kitchen, taking the card from the bouquet. Thank you. Reed.
I pick up the vase, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the roses, a gift from my fiancé.
He’s trying, too. Give him another chance.
“Who sent them?”
“Reed.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, and he’s taking me out tonight.”
The sound of a metal spoon banging against the counter echoes against the kitchen walls. “Damn it, honey. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Mom, please don’t give me shit for this. He’s trying, so I have to as well. Just be nice when he gets here, okay?”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
She mumbles something under her breath as I give her a quick peck on the cheek on my way up to my room to change.
* * *
The doorbell rings promptly at seven that night.
“Sweetpea, Prince Charming is here,” my mom shouts up the stairs to me.
I check myself one last time in the mirror—black cowl neck sweater, jeans, black boots. I grab my purse from the bed and head downstairs.
Mom stands at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me, her eyebrows raised.
“Stand down, Mom. Your disdain is showing.”
“This is not a good idea, honey.”
“He’s my fiancé. I have to at least give him another chance.”
She stops shaking her head just as I open the door to let in Reed, who’s also wearing a sweater and jeans, holding a single red rose.
He holds it out to me. “Hey,” he greets me, leaning in to hug me.
“Thanks. Let me get my coat.”
I hand the rose to my mom, who gives me another disapproving look.
“Good evening, Mrs. Moore,” he says to my mom.
“Hello, Reed,” she replies through gritted teeth.
I retrieve my down jacket from the closet along with my scarf, gloves, and hat. Reed helps me into my coat, holding it for me. With his back to her, he can’t see Mom roll her eyes at him.
“Such a gentleman,” she mouths silently to me.
I frown at her remark, then just as quickly slap on a smile when I turn back to Reed.
“We won’t be too late, Mom,” I shout over my shoulder.
“Be safe, please,” she answers back just before shutting the door.
Reed comes to my side of the car first, holding the door open for me.
Once we’re both buckled in, silence permeates the interior. We glance at each other, instantly bursting into peals of laughter.
“Why are we so nervous?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” He stops laughing. “Ready?”
“Yeah, let’s do this. Get ready, Memory Lane.”
Reed turns on the satellite radio to a classic rock station. The voice of John Fogerty comes out of the speakers singing “Bad Moon Rising,” accompanying us as we travel over the Hudson to the Ashby campus.
Great.
So help me if Creedence Clearwater Revival is trying to tell me something…
I mouth along to the radio’s playlist the rest of the way until Reed reaches campus, pulling up in front of his old frat house.
I smile to myself. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember. How could I forget? It was rush week freshman year. You were wearing a cute white lacy top with flowers—”
“Which soon turned a light amber color when you bumped into me and spilled beer all over it. It was ruined,” I conclude his recollection.
“Yeah, sorry about that. But as I recall, I was very apologetic.”
“You were also nervous, trying to get rid of the stain by blotting some wet napkin over it.”
He cringes. “Did you know I was just doing that to cop a feel?”
I tilt my head at him. “Reed, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I know, babe. So, next stop…the diner.”
He starts the car again and backs out of the space.
Ok, so far, so good.
Give him a chance.
* * *
Hot grease spills down our fingers onto our arms as we bite into the burger deluxe special at the Cottage Grove Diner.
We glance at each other and grin, fighting the urge to laugh so we can swallow our food.
“I was trying to be so ladylike when I ate one of these on our date.”
Reed smiles at me. “I gotta give you credit for that. Your burger was spilling everywhere, and you dapped at your mouth so daintily with ketchup and grease all over your chin.”
“Not one of my finest moments.”
“I did tell you to order anything on the menu.”
“And I did. I’m definitely not one of those ‘I’ll just have a salad’ girls. But I’m glad I didn’t turn you off with my eating habits.”
His eyes grow softer. “Lily, I dated enough of those salad girls before I met you. You completely enchanted me that night.”
My shoulders relax at his pronouncement, my entire body warming from his honesty. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“And it won’t be the last. So, dessert. Hot fudge brownie sundae for two?”
He remembered.
I nod as I wipe my chin, this time not so daintily. “Let’s just try to finish these burgers first.”
* * *
“So…”
“So…”
“This is awkward.”
“It’s definitely like our first date all over again.”
We’re standing at my mom’s front door, staring into each other’s eyes. His gloved hands hold mine.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for tonight, Lily. It really meant a lot to me that you agreed to this.”
“You’re welcome. It meant a lot to me, too. But I can’t…”
He nods his head. “I know. I know. I won’t push. Just move back in when you’re ready. I miss you, that’s all.”
“I know you do. Baby steps, okay?”
“Okay.” He leans in, giving me a short yet soft kiss. “I’ll call you.”
He’s heading to his car when I call out to him. “Hey, Reed.”
He turns back around to me. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking…I’d like to take some classes about photography.”
“You mean as a general topic? About famous photographers?”
“No, how to become one. A photographer, that is.”
He comes back, stopping a few inches away from me. “Why in the hell would you want to do something like that?”
I hold my head high. “Because I think I’d be good at it.”
My fiancé shakes his head at me. “Babe, photography is a hobby, not a profession. Stick to teaching. It’s what you’re good at.” He kisses me quickly on the lips. “We’ll talk soon.”
He walks back to his car, giving me a wave before he drives away.
I don’t wave back.
I told Grayson that my fiancé would laugh at me if I told him about my aspirations to become a photographer. Now I almost wish he had laughed at me. That would’ve hurt less.
Fuck.
No, on second thought, it would’ve been just as painful.
I open the front door, shutting it quietly behind me.
“Good. You’re home.”
My mom’s voice startles me; my hand flies to my chest. I turn around to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs in her dark red bathrobe. “I’m glad you’re a nurse because I think I just had a heart attack.”
“You’re such a drama queen. So, did Prince Charming lure you back to his castle?”
“No,” I reply without hesitation. “I told him I needed more time, and he said he was okay with that.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She takes a step closer to me, reaching out to touch my face. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, sweetpea.”
I smile at the feel of my mother’s touch. “I won’t, Mom. And anyway, that’s not possible. I’m Joanie Moore’s kid.”
She pecks me on the cheek, enveloping me in a tight embrace. “Damn straight.”