by Shafer, Gina
Nick shakes his head and kisses me. “You want some bacon?”
“I’m confused. I thought we weren’t doing this around....” I jerk my head at the bathroom.
“I talked to her this morning. She’s cool with it.”
“She’s cool with it?”
“Yeah.”
“And what exactly did you tell her?”
“That we’re dating. That I love her, and she’s my baby sister, and if she needs anything, all she has to do is ask. But I want to date you, and I may screw things up, but I’m willing to take that chance, because there’s nothing I want more than to be a part of your life. Basically.”
Dating. We’re dating. Nick and Whitley. A couple.
It’s the first time I’ve heard it out loud. “It’s too early for this.”
Nick laughs, and Rose calls from the bathroom that it’s time to go.
“I’ve got to get going too. My dad is probably wondering where I am, and I shouldn’t worry him like this.”
“No problem. Mind if I stop by after I get Rose to school? I have something to ask you.”
“Of course. See you then,” I say. “Bye, Rose.”
“Bye!” I hear. I shoot Nick a silly look, sticking out my tongue, and he laughs.
“Hey, Whitley.” He stops me before I go. “You’re good with this, right? I know we didn’t get a chance to discuss things in depth yet, but I’m committed to whatever it is you can give right now.”
I erase the distance between us and press my lips against his. Every time I’m this close to him, my stomach flips and barrel rolls. He deepens the kiss. Just as his tongue darts into my mouth, Rose clears her throat, and if I’m not mistaken, begins tapping her shoe against the wood floor.
I give him one more peck and then make myself scarce.
When I enter my parents’ house, it’s quieter than normal. I let Coconut out of my room, and he finds his favorite spot of late, the windowsill in the front room by the entryway. Sometimes he watches from his perch all day.
I head toward my parents’ room but pause when I hear Dad’s low voice. He’s speaking or singing—it’s too quiet to hear. I press my ear against the door and realize he’s reading to her. She’s silent, so I’m not sure if she’s sleeping or just quietly listening. I recognize the words. I wrote them painstakingly by hand in my best calligraphy and got them framed. Their vows.
“There isn’t a person in the world who will love you and care for you like I will. I will honor and defend you. I will worship and protect you. You are everything to me.” He continues, but I can’t listen anymore. I hold my fingers over my mouth to keep from crying.
I forget at times that he’s losing his wife and partner. It must be truly terrifying to face the reality of losing that person. My parents married when they were nineteen. How can you say goodbye to someone you’ve been with longer than you’ve been without?
My heart breaks for them.
I go straight to the kitchen and whip up breakfast. After washing my hands, I pull out sweet potatoes, spinach, and eggs. I dice onions and sweat them in a large skillet, then toss in black beans and cubed sweet potatoes. After a while I add spinach and wilt it.
“Smells good in here!” Dad says when he enters the kitchen. He’s got his coffee mug and gives himself a refill.
He must have been up and moving around before I got home this morning. I crack eggs into a bowl and give them a sharp whisk with a fork.
“I didn’t see you this morning.” Dad says
I pour the eggs over the mixture in the pan and fold everything together. “I uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“So you left?” he asks, taking a loud lip from his hot mug.
“I went next door.”
“Whitley—”
“In the interest of full disclosure, Nick and I are dating. I know it’s kind of soon, and I know it’s not the greatest time to start a relationship, with Mom being sick, but he’s a good man, and he cares about our family and I care about him, so...” I shut off the heat under the pan and turn to look at him. I don’t expect to see the huge grin on his face.
“You’re a grown up, Whitley. If you’re asking for my approval, you’ve got it. But I don’t think you are. You’re asking for your own. I really hope you understand it’s still okay to be happy, even when you’re sad.” He wraps me in a tight hug and kisses the side of my head. “Your mother would be overjoyed if she could understand this. If you’re looking for a moral compass, use that.”
He reaches into the pan and scoops up a finger full of scramble. He pops it in his mouth as he picks up his coffee and escapes before I can kick him out.
I warm tortillas in the oven for a few minutes and then fill them with the scramble. Then I make a sauce by blending avocado, sour cream, and lime juice.
Nick arrives just as breakfast is ready. He knocks on the front door, and Dad embarrasses us both by crushing him in a bear hug. Dad is also in super thin in pajamas, so my face heats for more than one reason.
“You still hungry? I know you ate,” I ask Nick. Dad fixes himself a plate and disappears into the living room. Eating on the couch today, I guess.
“I can always eat your food,” Nick says.
“Is Mom not up yet?” I ask Dad.
“She’s sleeping in this morning. Had a rough night and was up a lot. Still sore from her fall.” Dad talks between mouthfuls. As soon as we hear the TV click on, the energy in the kitchen transforms. I’m suddenly hyperaware that I’m in a room alone with Nick again.
He moves up behind me as I prepare his plate and then presses his heavy erection against my ass. I lean forward, almost spilling the food. I set the plate down on the counter.
“I can still remember how you taste and god, I want more,” he whispers in my ear.
“Yeah?” I ask, breathing heavy.
“I can’t wait to sink inside you for the first time. It’s going to be so fucking good. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“I want you too. Right now.” I confess.
“Hey, Whitley, you got any more of that green sauce?” Dad calls.
I’m reminded we’re not alone, and I stiffen. “Yeah. Coming!” I pour some into a small dipping bowl and take it to him.
Nick and I eat in record time. As we finish, Mom wakes up. I get an alert of movement on my phone and see her stirring.
“Mama’s awake,” I announce and Dad jumps up. “I can do it,” I suggest, but he turns me away.
“Why don’t you two go do something for a while. I’ll call if I need help with anything.”
Nick and I throw each other a doubtful look.
“I’m serious. Every day shouldn’t be hard when you’re young. Carol and I will be here when you get back. I can’t function when I see you two makin’ eyes at each other.”
We laugh as he disappears down the hall.
“We’ve been ordered away.” I say, laughing.
Nick stands and grabs my hand. “I wanted to ask you something.” He guides me out the back door, across the deck and lawn, and into his house.
I peer into his deep green eyes. “What is it?”
I could really use your help.”
“With?” I’m concerned now.
“The bar.” He looks embarrassed, and if I’m not mistaken, a little uncomfortable.
“What’s going on?”
“I feel guilty asking you for a favor when I know you’re already spread thin, so please decline if you think it’ll be too much. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I know you said last night you were interested in cooking. I know you well enough to say that you’re extremely bright and talented.”
“You’re making me blush,” I joke.
“I could go on.” He lightens the mood a bit. I’m thankful for it. “I thought maybe you’d like to dip in and get your feet wet. The restaurant side of things could use a little revamping, if you will. Things are tired and uninspired. I want you to shake things up with my kit
chen staff. Teach them some new recipes.”
“Nick, I don’t know anything about the restaurant business.”
“What better way to begin your education?”
He’s right, I was just waxing poetic about cooking and being more creative, and how much I’d love to combine the two. Here he is, offering me exactly what I want.
“I— It all sounds perfect.” But I’m unable to hide my hesitation.
“What’s wrong?”
”This is all so new, and I don’t know how to act.” I break away and pace his living room. The interior of his home is a deep, creamy butter yellow that normally I would detest, but somehow it works. It’s set off with dark walnut furniture and framing around the doorways. My shoes echo on the wood flooring when I move.
The colors and the vibe are soothing. “I don’t mean to confuse you. I’m so thankful you would make this offer. I’m totally down to help, but I want to do it without pay. I think that’s the only way I would not feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness.”
“You’re not the one taking advantage, Whitley. I’m asking you to do me a favor when you’re in the middle of helping out your parents. If anyone is taking advantage here, it’s me.
I don’t see it that way. There’s something so endearing about him admitting that he would like my assistance. In my last relationship, I wasn’t needed. I was hardly even wanted. Granted, the door swung both ways with that one, but it’s nice to feel that passion for another person again. It’s nice to feel wanted.
“I guess we’ll just have to agree to take advantage of each other equally.” I shrug.
“Watch it, or you’ll find yourself taken advantage of right here.” Nick’s palm circles the granite countertop beside him and then gives it a little pat.
I’m thrown back to last night on his bed. My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip to hold myself back from lunging at him.
“I want to take you on a date,” he announces, completely changing his tune. I almost get whiplash from his 180-degree turn.
“A date?”
“Dinner. Somewhere nice. A true old-fashioned date,” he says. My nose scrunches up. “What, not into dates?”
“Not into old-fashioned. As much as I adore my parents’ love, it’s not what I want.” It’s difficult to understand at times. To idolize something, look up to it your whole life, but not want it for your own. I don’t want to recreate their love. I want to make my own and hope it holds up to the test of time, like theirs has.
Nick slaps his hands on the granite one more time before crossing the room to me. “We’re going shopping.” He directs me to the door and scoops up his keys.
“What for?” I ask.
“We need to switch things up a bit.”
My stomach drops. “What the hell for?”
“We are going on a date. At a stuffy, classy, old-fashioned restaurant,” he says, quickly covering my lips with his fingers before I can object. I force out a grunt, and he chuckles.
“Hear me out?” he asks as we get into his car.
I nod.
“We go shopping for a new outfit to wear tonight first.”
Although it isn’t what I expected him to say, it doesn’t sound completely awful. Disregarding that whole stuffy restaurant part.
It isn’t until Nick successfully finesses us a parking spot right in front of the mall, and we walk inside, that he tells me the catch. “You’re going to shop for me, and I’m going to shop for you.”
My jaw drops while he stands there, smiling down at me like I’m the cutest little kitten in the pet store. News flash, big guy. Even kittens have claws.
“You don’t know my sizes,” I say haughtily, flicking my hair.
“Size six in jeans, small top, slender and sexy feet. I’m guessing size seven in shoes. Will you be needing any undergarments?” he asks confidently.
I abandon all hope of faux indifference. “Wait, Nick.” I grab him as he starts to move away. He’s ready to shop. I have no idea where to begin.
“I, uh, I don’t know—”
“Whitley. Don’t overthink it, okay? Get me something you like, and I’ll like it too.”
I look around, my eyes darting like someone is going to come straight up to me and call me on my anxiety.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Nick says, caressing my neck.
The move reminds me where I am and who I’m with. Why the hell am I so nervous? It’s clothes. Freaking clothes. Whitley, get it together! “Okay, but we don’t get to see each other’s choice until right before.”
He grins wide and shakes my outstretched hand in a deal. “Did we decide on undergarments?” He pokes fun, and I swat him lightly, giggling as I decide which store to enter.
My phone dings with a notification alert as I’m browsing the first store. It’s dark, and the music is too loud, and I should have walked back out the moment I stepped inside. I fish my phone from my back pocket. Nick sent a photo.
When I open the text message, I’m bombarded with the image of an almost nude mannequin modeling a cherry red G-string.
Me: Ha ha. Very funny. Leave me alone. I’m shopping.
He doesn’t text back for a while. By now I’ve got a pretty good idea what I want to get for him. I snicker to myself as I make my way around the mall, purchasing all the pieces.
I text him when I’m finished, and he tells me to meet him inside a high-end jewelry store. When I see him, he’s holding one simple brown bag from a designer store I recognize but haven’t ever been inside. I feel a little silly, juggling my handful of bags.
“I’m having trouble,” he says. “Silver or gold?”
The jeweler looks at me expectantly.
“Uh… gold?” I say, and Nick smiles in delight.
“You heard her,” he says to the jeweler. “The gold one, please.”
“Hold up. You did not just buy me a piece of jewelry here.” I rush to the glass cabinet, but the jeweler whisks it away before I get a glimpse of it. “You can’t. I don’t need it.”
“It goes with your outfit. Besides, it’s too late anyway. He’s already wrapping it up.” He pecks my forehead. He moves away to complete the purchase, leaving me to gander at the jewelry counter. I knew he had money. He owns multiple businesses and was left a hefty inheritance. He’s successful and works hard. I thought I understood what that meant. But my stomach hurts looking at the prices, and my off-brand shoes don’t feel welcome.
“You finished?” he asks, and I nod.
We return to the car, he opens the trunk, and I shove in my bags. He places his next to mine, and tears well. I blink them away.
I’m not insecure. I’m not the type of person who walks into a room and doubts I’m good enough. I don’t put value on money or things. I put value on people. But it’s difficult to come to terms with the fact that a person I value more than most is also more wealthy than most.
“I feel like I fucked up,” he says after we get in the car and leave the parking lot.
“I didn’t expect that.” I answer him, subdued.
“You didn’t expect me to spend money on you?” he asks.
He’s trying to understand. Hell, so am I. I’ve been so emotional and moody today.
“Whatever you bought me will be the most expensive thing I own.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” I tell him. “I just don’t want to confuse things between us. I have feelings for you. We’re connected on a level I’ve never been on before. The first time I met you, I knew this was different. I don’t want you to think you need to buy me things or hand over opportunities just because you can. I want to be your equal.”
He nods and turns down our road. I think the conversation is over, so once he pulls into the driveway and parks, I move to get out.
“I think you misunderstand my intentions,” he says.
I freeze, letting the door close against my hip. “What do you mean?”
He looks determined. It shuts me up and dries my mouth. Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“It was my idea to take you on a date. It was my idea we go shopping. I wanted to buy you things, and I especially wanted to buy you nice things. Not because I wanted to show off or prove my superiority. I walked through a few stores until I saw a dress I knew would look great on you. I didn’t care about the price, because it didn’t matter. Ten dollars or a thousand, I knew you would appreciate it just the same.” He pauses.
“I want to be transparent. I have money. You know this. And I want to spend it on the girl I’m dating. And damn it, I want to date you. I wasn’t expecting you to come along at the time you did, and we tried to resist each other for as long as we could. My parents worked hard, and I’ve worked hard. I would never fuck around and purchase stupid shit. But I want to buy you things. I want to see your face light up when I get it right. Be it something from the thrift store or something from a high-end designer. Are you okay with that?”
“I’m just not used to this. I came from a strange relationship of two years, where we lived our lives so separately, and now I’ve thrown myself into this.” I gesture between us.
“Do you need more time? Are you not ready?” he asks, fear evident in the way his throat bobs up and down in a deep swallow.
I lean across the middle console and press my lips against his. As soon as he softens against me, I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, teasing. “This is the realest thing I’ve known. If you’ll be patient while I work through my issues, I want nothing more than to dive in with you.”
He groans and kisses me passionately. His hand tangles in my hair.
After a while it gets uncomfortably hot and we separate. We get out and round the back of the car to get the bags from the trunk. I feel much more at ease with the difference of our purchases.
“How much convincing do I have to do to talk you into showering at my place?” he asks, wiggling his brows at me. I giggle and bury my face in his chest.
“Please, you’ve got peeping Tom written all over you,” I say, and he laughs.