by Dee Lagasse
Tunnel vision. It’s real. The chatter of the people in the parking lot, the sounds of cars starting up and radios playing become muted background noise the second Cole touches me. I see her. And only her.
“Oh, hey you,” she coos, sliding her hands across my waist, interlocking them behind my back. “I know tonight probably wasn’t what you had in mind for ‘date night,’ but I hope you had fun.”
“I did,” I tell her, honestly. “It might not have been just us, but it was still perfect. I really like Chase and Hollis.”
“Good,” she smiles, looking up at me, her eyes full of adoration. “C’mon. They’ll let our lot out first. We should probably get you home.”
As much as I would love to stay right where we are, she’s right. With the two-hour car ride, that’ll put us back in Abbott Hills right around one thirty. Without showering or making breakfast, I can sleep until six thirty and still get to work on time. Adding in the time to get settled into bed, that’ll give me roughly four and a half hours of sleep. But, this night? So worth it.
Making it to the highway in record time, I crack a joke about being ruined for all games in the future knowing how it feels being VIP. While I didn’t think it was hilarious, I kind of expected something in response. So when there’s nothing, not even a chuckle from Cole, I glance over to my right.
With each pronounced breath, her body lifts just the slightest. Her head is tilted to the left, her eyes closed. We’re only ten minutes into our drive home and she’s sound asleep in the seat next to me. Putting some Zac Brown Band on shuffle, I coast into the passing lane and crack my window just a little bit so the cool autumn air hits me as I drive.
When I pull into my assigned parking spot, there’s no fighting the giant yawn and the heaviness of my eyes. The last fifteen minutes or so had been rough. The sigh of relief I let out when the exit leading to our apartment building was in sight was so loud that I was surprised I didn’t wake Sleeping Beauty in the seat next to me.
Keeping my keys in hand, I walk over and open the passenger side door. Contemplating my next move for a second, I bend over and unbuckle the seatbelt fastened at Cole’s hips. Sliding one hand under her thigh and the other in the middle of her back, I slowly lift her out of the seat. Instantly, her eyes flutter open in panic. But as soon as she makes eye contact with me, her shoulders relax. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she rests her head on my shoulder.
“You’re so perfect,” she sighs sleepily as she nuzzles into me.
No, you are.
Chuckling, I blindly attempt to maneuver a key into the door while making sure Cole’s bottom half is still secure in my arm. Luckily, on the first try, the key slides right in and I can turn the handle unlocking the door. Pushing it open with my foot, I quickly step into the building, making sure the door latches before heading up the stairs.
“Hey, Cole?” I start once I get between our apartments. “Are you sleeping in your bed or mine?”
“Yours,” she murmurs. “Just need jamas.”
I could put her down. I could have shaken her in the car and never picked her up in the first place. But I’m not going to lie, this prince charming, carrying the princess over the threshold thing? Kind of digging it.
Using the same technique as downstairs, I unlock my apartment door. Since it won’t close on its own, I take my foot and close it halfway, using my back to close it fully. Once we’re securely in the apartment, I bring her to my bed.
Gently placing her down, I pull off her shoes and place them on the floor behind me.
“Be right back,” I tell her, remembering I need to lock the apartment door. I don’t think that anything will happen. We live in a gated community in small-town New Hampshire, but it’s habitual and I know I won’t be able to sleep knowing it’s unlocked.
Expecting to find her exactly how I left her, I’m surprised when I see Cole snuggled underneath the gray comforter. Out of the braids, her hair is now a wavy mess framing her face. Catching the pile of clothes next to her shoes, I smirk. She’s either naked or pretty damn close to it. The fact that we’re just going to sleep doesn’t change the proud peacock effect of having a gorgeous woman with minimal clothing in my bed.
Stripping down to my boxers, I slide into bed. As if on cue, she starts inching toward me. Stretching my arm out, she scooches in, settling in the crook of my arm. With her head on my chest and body pressed against mine, I quickly realize she’s only wearing underwear.
It’s going to be hard, in more ways than one, to reel it in, but it’s late. She’s half-asleep, cuddling in. Even though she’s still sexy lying here in my arms, I know she’s not trying to be seductive. So, I bring my arm in and as tempting as it is for my hand to wander, I begin to run it up and down on her back.
The same continuous motion over and over lulls me into a trance. Just as I feel myself slipping into slumber, I cock my head down and leave the smallest kiss on Cole’s forehead.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” I whisper as I pull back, letting my body relax.
When I feel and hear the content sigh leave the woman in my arms, I can’t help but smile.
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Perfection.”
It’s only been one day.
It’s been one day since I’ve seen Cole and I feel like a junkie jonesing for his next fix.
Cole Christian is my drug of choice and I’m addicted.
After I left her in my bed yesterday morning, I went to work and came home to the mouthwatering smell of pot roast. Expecting to find Cole, I looked around the entire apartment before realizing there was a box of herbal tea and note next to the hot Crock-Pot on my kitchen counter.
Dearest Mr. Perfection,
Instead of coming to Capparelli & Co. for dinner tonight, stay home and rest. As much as I would love to see you, I’m sure you’re exhausted. The roast should be ready around five. Enjoy your dinner. Drink the tea. Go to bed early.
Sweet dreams, Cole
In the Crock-Pot was a small piece of beef, carrots, and potatoes seasoned to perfection. After dinner, I put on a movie and drank the herbal tea as instructed. The chamomile blend had relaxed me so much that I don’t even remember the end of the movie or falling asleep on my coach. I slept right through until my alarm woke me up this morning.
The first thing I saw after turning off my alarm was that Cole had sent me a text around ten, saying goodnight. Immediately, I felt antsy. Like the hours couldn’t go by fast enough. As intimidating as dinner with her parents is, all that stood between having Cole Christian in my arms was one workday.
And of course, it was the day from hell. Everything that went wrong, did. Tucker and I spent more time fixing other people’s careless mistakes than getting anything productive done today. The only silver lining I could see was that I had only been working with Tuck’s crew for a couple weeks now, and he seemed to have more faith in my abilities than some of the guys who had been with him from day one.
Tucker’s appreciation of my carpentry skills aside, when three o’clock came rolling around, I couldn’t get off the job site fast enough. I stopped at the store, got flowers and wine for her mom, and her dad’s favorite beer and now I’m just waiting. I’ve showered, shaved, changed my outfit four times, facetimed my sister to see if what I was wearing was okay, and then changed once more.
It hadn’t occurred to me that I would feel nervous at all, never mind this nervous. I already met her mom, I’m pretty sure her sister and brother-in-law like me…it’s meeting her dad. It doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-eight years old or that I’ve, mostly, got my shit together. I’m not the same foul-mouthed teenaged punk I was the last time I met the dad of someone I’m dating. But it’s equally terrifying. If not more.
I really like Cole. And as I wait for the minutes to pass, I realize just how much and how this dinner could make or break what we have. It is so apparent by the way she is with her friends and her sister that family and friends mean a lot to her. If her parents hate me…I don’t even want to thi
nk about what that could mean for us.
Put on your charming pants, Paxton. It’s time.
Chapter Nineteen
Cole
As soon as I open the door and see Pax standing there in dark denim jeans, a tucked-in white poplin shirt, and a navy jacket, I knew tonight was going to be okay. Holding a six-pack of Smithwick’s Pale Ale in one hand, a bouquet of mixed flowers under his armpit, and a bottle of merlot in the other, he looked like he was ready to throw up.
We had taken my car and now we’re waiting at the school down the street from my childhood home. Kinley and I had been doing this same routine since we moved out and realized that it’s harder for our mom to grill us on our lives if we are together. It’s always from a place of love, but Helen Christian always needs to know e v e r y t h i n g.
I had pre-warned Pax. And I think I might have scared him a little. He hasn’t said a word since we pulled into the parking lot, his leg bouncing in the seat next to me.
“Hey,” I smile, putting my hand on his thigh, rubbing a little. “It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. You made it through pumpkin picking with Davis, Chase, and Travis, tonight will be easy.”
“I know.” He offers a slight smile back in return. “And I know this probably isn’t the time or the place, but yesterday, before the football game when you made the comment about me being your man…” He pauses, looking at me as if he’s waiting for me to recognize what he’s talking about.
“Was that not okay?” I ask in a slight panic, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.
I had been joking. It had been a comment loaded with sass, implying that any other girl better back up, but I had been kidding. Kind of.
“I guess, I just want to know,” he starts. “When we were leaving Chase’s on Sunday, you seemed so adamant about not putting a title on what we’re doing, but then…”
“I titled you less than twenty-four hours later,” I finish for him, grimacing.
“I get it,” he says. “We’ve only been in each other’s lives for a few weeks. It seems like big picture-wise, we’re moving really fast, but with you, it just feels right. Being with you, being around you, just feels right.”
Yes. Exactly.
“I know,” I agree before admitting. “I reached over for you in bed last night. I was so bummed when I realized I was in my bed, and not yours. It took a lot of self-control not to knock on your door for a two AM snuggle sesh.”
“You should have,” he says, nodding over to my sister’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. “I guess that’s our cue.”
Not wanting another conversation like this going unfinished, especially walking into my parents’ house, I turn my body so I’m completely facing him.
“So when we walk into my parents’ house, I’m going to say this is Pax, my…”
Repeating back to him almost exactly what he asked me about walking into his own mom’s house.
“Boyfriend,” he finishes, a grin creeping across his face as he sees my own ear-to-ear smile in response to his answer.
“Alright, boyfriend, you ready for this?” I ask, putting my car in reverse as I back out of the parking spot and follow my sister down the street to the same white, split level Cape we grew up in.
Out of habit, Kinley pulls into the driveway, all the way to the right, in front of the two-car garage. Behind the door in front of her SUV, would be my father’s car. As I go to the left, I laugh.
“I just realized how habitual we are,” I explain as Pax looks at me confused while we step out of the car. “This has been my spot in the driveway since I was sixteen. Even when it’s just me, I pull right into this spot. Just like Kinley pulled right into hers. My mom’s car is in the garage in front of us, my dad’s is behind the door in front of Kinley. It’s funny how that happens.”
Reaching into the backseat for the beer, wine, and flowers for my parents, Pax chuckles. “We never lived in one place long enough for anything like that. I think my mom got stir-crazy. We always lived in the same town, but we bounced from house to house a lot. I went to four different elementary schools from kindergarten to fifth grade.”
Once Pax has everything secure, we walk to the end of the walkway leading up to the house. Kinley and Davis stand waiting for us by the concrete steps.
“I figured we’d go first,” Kinley laughs, rubbing her belly. “Maybe the new little pop and the ultrasound in my purse will contain Helen for a few minutes.”
At only ten weeks pregnant, my sister hadn’t shown any indication that she is expecting. Until this week. She showed up to the office on Monday morning and there was the tiniest little bump protruding from her dress.
Going back and forth from DC to New Hampshire frequently has my mom soaking up every second of Kinley’s pregnancy while she’s here.
“My girls!”
Kinley didn’t even get her hand on the doorknob before my father is opening the door, a big smile spread across his face.
“Hi Dad,” Kinley says, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
“Davis.” My dad nods respectfully as his son-in-law walks past him into the house.
“Hi Daddy,” I smile, leaning up just like my sister had done moments before me. “This is Pax. Pax, this is my father, Patrick Christian.”
Offering his hand to my dad, Pax looks at him right in the eyes. “Hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is ours, I assure you.” My mother’s voice trails from behind us. “Come on in. Dinner is ready.”
Knowing my mom, she just took the chicken out of the oven thirty-seven seconds before we pulled into the driveway. She is always one step ahead.
“I hope you like roast chicken,” she continues talking to Pax before turning to Kinley. “I tried to keep everything as simple as I could for my growing grandbaby.”
And by “simple” she means she went completely overboard. The middle of the table is full of plates overflowing with chicken breasts, stuffing, mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, asparagus both wrapped in bacon and steamed by itself, mini corn on the cob, and warm dinner rolls.
“I’m sorry there’s no salad,” she apologizes as if any of us are going to judge her for her lack of leafy greens on the table.
“Oh no. How will we survive?” my dad teases her, handing me and Kinley each a glass of his homemade lemonade. “Davis, why don’t you show Pax the way to the kitchen and get yourselves a drink?”
Following Davis, we walk into a very country-kitchen similar to the one in his own condo. The house as a whole surprises me. It seems so homey, so simple for a United States senator. Opening the fridge, Davis rattles off the options, grabbing a water for himself before lowering his voice. “Take the water or a soda, man. I made the mistake of grabbing a beer the first time I came here…believe me, you’re better off.”
Laughing, I tell him that water is fine. I’m not here to drink. I’m here to impress my girlfriend’s parents.
“Good looking out,” I say lowly before we make our way back into the dining room where everyone is now sitting.
At the head of the table, Patrick Christian, who I’ve decided looks like a real-life Mr. Clean, laughs, “It’s good to know you two are already sticking together.”
He looks down at my water before waving us to the table. “Don’t be shy, Pax. Grab a seat.”
Patrick and Helen Christian make up the head and foot of the table. On the far side, Davis has taken a seat next to Kinley who is ripping tiny pieces of bread into her mouth while she waits. Taking my seat in the empty chair next to Cole, I pull the cloth napkin from under my fork, placing it on my lap.
“Since Kinley reached for the food first,” Cole starts, laughing. “She gets to say Grace.”
“In my defense,” Kinley argues, shrugging, “It was really your niece or nephew that wanted the bread. They can’t really praise the Lord just yet.”
“I’ll say Grace,” I offer.
Davis coughs “kiss ass” and then bursts into a fit of
laughter earning him a gentle shove from his wife.
“That would be lovely, Paxton.” Senator Christian smiles from the end of the table.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale slightly before bowing my head, placing my hands together.
“Oh, Heavenly Father, tonight we thank you for the bountiful dinner that has my stomach grumbling. Thank you for Kinley’s determination getting me to come to dinner tonight and for the bro code that had me walking into the dining room with water instead of the beer I probably would have taken.” A small chuckle comes from every other person in the room. Cole’s hand gently squeezes my thigh underneath the table, giving me the smallest squeeze of reassurance before I continue. “Thank you, ahead of time, for not having Mr. Christian grill me too hard about dating his daughter. I realize this might just be wishful thinking, but if you could help a fella out, I’ll owe you one. And thank you for playing a hand in fate, bringing Cole into my life, making me the happiest I’ve been in, well, ever. Amen.”
A chorus of amens follow mine, as I raise my head. Looking around the table, I’m relieved to see a smile on everyone’s face.
“You know, it’s not my husband you have to worry about,” Senator Christian chuckles, reaching for the plate of bacon wrapped asparagus in front of her, taking a few before passing the plate over to me.
“I tried warning him,” Davis laughs, scooping potatoes onto his plate.
It doesn’t take me long to realize the dinner table routine, everyone taking the closest plate or bowl, taking what they want, if they want anything, before passing the food to the left.
Dinner conversation is light, most of the attention going to Kinley and the baby. As soon as the topic of a baby shower came up, Kinley and her mother started going back and forth, Cole interjecting only to act as a middle ground.
Just when I think I’m off the hook for the family shakedown, Kinley looks over at me and says, “Why don’t we talk about Cole’s new boyfriend?”