by J. L. Berg
Words failed me, so I nodded.
“But I’m going to need you to get rid of the football player and Don Juan.”
“There is no football player,” I said softly.
Pulling back, he looked at me in confusion. “What?”
“I didn’t go out with him. I never wanted to.”
“Then, why? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Only me, Liv, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then, we will figure out the rest later. Right now, I just want to kiss you again,” he said right before his lips melted back into mine.
I’m okay with that.
~Liv~
“You’re going on a date with your hot neighbor?” Mia squeaked into the phone.
I moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for one. “Yeah. Am I crazy?”
“To go out with a hot guy on a Saturday? Wait—he’s taking you out during the day?”
I laughed, putting the last smear of almond butter on my toast, as I took a seat on the sofa.
“Yeah, that’s the plan—or at least the only part I am privy to. He won’t tell me where we are going or what we will be doing. He only said to wear comfortable clothes and to be prepared to get dirty.” I shook my head, remembering his early morning phone call.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice coming in clear and vibrant across the airwaves.
I stretched, brushing my legs across the silky sheets. “Good morning,” I greeted, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind.”
“Good. You need to get up,” he commanded.
Laughing, I asked, “And why is that?”
“Because we have plans.”
I didn’t usually go for the bossy type, but on him, it looked good.
“Dirty, huh?” Mia commented. “I want details and pictures—unless they’re kinky. You can keep those to yourself,” she laughed.
Asher’s babbling rang through the phone line, and I heard Mia coo back.
“Someone misses you,” she said.
“Tell him I miss him, too.” I paused for a moment as I looked down at my untouched cup of tea that was turning cold. “Are you sure I’m making the right decision, getting involved with someone so close to me?”
“Isn’t that the whole idea? Getting involved with someone we’re close with, Liv?” she asked.
“You know what I mean.”
She huffed. “Let me ask you something. In the nearly four years since I’ve been back in Richmond, have I ever met a single guy you’ve dated?”
I sat my plate down on the coffee table as my mouth opened to answer. It hung there, wide and empty, as I thought, but I was unable to come up with a single name.
“Well, there was…” I started but stopped.
“No, Liv, there hasn’t been one. We’ve never double-dated. You haven’t brought any of them over here for dinner. Nothing. Why is that?”
This was a jaw-dropping moment.
“I don’t know.”
“You want to know what I think? I think you’re purposely dating the wrong men.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Honestly, I think you’ve been biding your time.”
“For what?” My eyes suddenly drifted over to the small house next door.
“Now, isn’t that the question of the day?”
Our phone call finished up soon after that, and I spent the next hour staring at my closet, wondering why it seemed like everyone in my life had suddenly decided it was their life mission to counsel me.
Did they have degrees to do this kind of shit professionally?
I sighed audibly as I sunk further into my closet, bending over in search of denim.
Why didn’t I own more jeans?
Jackson had said to dress comfortable. On most days, that was my normal attire. Light, airy dresses and skirts were the epitome of comfort. But he’d also said to prepare to get dirty, which required an entirely different outfit.
I needed denim and a T-shirt—two items that were scarce in my closet. While most women could live in jeans, I personally hated them. They were tight, constrictive, and stiff.
My girlfriends thought I was nuts, too.
Biding my time? That was ridiculous.
Mia clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
It was almost as ridiculous as saying I purposely dated the wrong men because I feared they would all leave me like my father.
I froze, nearly tumbling head first into the darkened depths of my closet.
“Oh crap,” I muttered.
Did I really do that?
I stood upright, my eyes becoming unfocused, as I let my mind wander back to all the men I’d dated and dumped over the years.
I was always the one who had broken it off. I was always the first one to walk away.
Holy shit, I am a nut case.
In an attempt to move past my own self-realization and instead of diving headfirst into denial, I began digging through my closet with gusto. I managed to find a couple of pairs of jeans that didn’t scream soccer mom or that didn’t magically time travel me from the ’90s, and I threw them on. They actually looked pretty good and hugged my hips and ass nicely. Paired with a black tee and some old boots, I was nearly ready to go by the time the doorbell rang. I threw on a pair of earrings, spritzed on some perfume, and high-fived myself in the mirror for being almost on time.
How about that?
I resisted the urge to throw a couple of bangles on my wrist or to accessorize my plain black shirt with a scarf, and I forced myself down the stairs. Jackson had been waiting long enough.
Stopping at the door, I took a deep breath and pulled it open.
Jackson was dressed in similar attire, and I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the way his T-shirt molded to his upper body, outlining every defined muscle.
“I will never look at denim the same way again,” he said as his eyes traveled back up to meet mine. “You look hot.”
“These old things? Really? I pulled them out of the back of my closet.” I turned toward the kitchen to grab my purse, feeling his eyes on me.
“That’s what all women say.”
“No, I’m serious. I literally pulled these out of the back of my closet. I hate jeans.”
“Well, they definitely don’t hate you,” he said, his Southern drawl growing thick and sultry.
The corner of my mouth twitched as I tried not to grin. I didn’t usually give in to cheesy lines like that, but damn, he could read the phone book with that Carolina accent, and my clothes would probably melt away before the end of the first page.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, snatching my purse from the counter.
We headed out the door, and I locked up.
“I’m not telling, but I will guarantee that it will be a dating first for you.” His grin was cool and so very confident.
“And how exactly can you guarantee that? I’ve lived here my entire life, and I’ve probably done every cliché first-date thing you can imagine.”
“I know, which is why we are doing something completely different.”
He held his hand out toward me and raised his eyebrow. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I answered, placing my hand in his.
“Good. Let’s go get dirty.”
~Jackson~
“If you’re taking me to a NASCAR race, then I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s already been done,” Liv said as we pulled away from the curb of our street.
“No car racing,” I answered.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her nibble on her bottom lip as we took a left toward downtown.
“Rodeo?” she guessed.
“Around here?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I don’t know—I’m sure it comes to town every once in a while. I was going to guess a hike, but then you turned the wrong way, so I’m clueless.”
Placing my hand
on her bouncing knee, I steadied it.
“Then, stop guessing. You don’t have to be in charge all the time, Liv. Learn to enjoy the passenger seat for a change.”
Her eyes briefly met mine before I set my sights back on the road. I heard her shift back in her seat, relaxing into it. Her leg remained steady, and her breathing evened out.
“Picnic?” she whispered.
“Shut it.” I laughed.
Ten minutes later, I was parallel-parking a block away from where we were supposed to be.
She nervously looked around. “Um…you know this isn’t a great part of town, right?”
“I’m aware.”
We stepped out of the car. I made sure the doors were locked, and nothing was in plain view. It was daytime, and my truck was by no means new, but I didn’t want to tempt anyone.
“Okay,” she answered. “I actually used to work down here, a few blocks back that way.” She pointed the opposite way we were headed. “It has a bad rap. There are lots of drug dealers, and it’s a run-down neighborhood, but there are still families who need help and children who just want someone to talk to.” She looked around, taking in the buildings, as we walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand.
“It was here where I really discovered my love for what I do. I always knew it was something I was interested in, but here—working with families and getting to know them and the lives they lived—that was when I truly knew it was what I was supposed to be doing.”
“I honestly don’t know what that’s like,” I confessed.
She stopped and looked up at me. “You don’t like being a lawyer?”
“I do, but when I hear you speak about the love you have for your profession, I realize I don’t feel that—or at least I haven’t for a long time. I remember the feeling from when I first started long ago.”
“What changed?”
“Money.” I shrugged.
She nodded, understanding seeping through her expression. “Noah,” she simply stated.
“Yeah, the curse of a single provider I guess.” My thoughts drifted back to the memory of my little man arguing over whether he needed a babysitter this afternoon. He was adamant that I could trust him to be alone. It was never a matter of trust, but more an issue of my nerves lasting through the ordeal. I knew I would have to give in soon, but in the meantime, he was stuck with a sitter.
We continued our short walk down the street in silence until she asked, “If income wasn’t a factor, what would you do?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I’d probably still be a lawyer, honestly, but I’d focus more around the ideals I value most—family and helping people who need it most.”
“Maybe someday,” she offered as we crossed the street
“Maybe someday,” I agreed.
I slowed down my gait until we came to a stop in front of the soup kitchen. She looked around, taking in the building and small sign.
“Okay, if we’re doing what I think we are, then yes, this is a definite first for me.” Her voice was excited and full of anticipation.
It was exactly what I had hoped it would be.
“How do you feel about doing a little volunteer work?”
“This is awesome, Jackson!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me in a giant hug.
I laughed and lifted her off the ground, loving the feel of her body in my arms.
“Okay, come on. We need to get inside. They start preparing dinner hours in advance.”
For the next few hours, we slaved away in the kitchen—chopping, slicing, and mixing—until our backs ached, and our fingers were ready to fall off. We talked about everything. I told her about what it was like growing up in Charleston, and she reciprocated with stories of growing up in Richmond. She also asked me about Noah. We fell into a natural rhythm. By the time the last onion was cut, we were both exhausted, but it was all worth it when the organizers placed us side by side and allowed us to help serve the meal we’d assisted in preparing.
Liv was in her element, meeting and greeting everyone, even those I’d rather she wouldn’t. She had no fear when it came to people, and she managed to break down even the hardest-looking individuals, earning a smile from them by the time their macaroni and cheese had been dished up.
After we finished, we said good-bye to the other volunteers and thanked the coordinators for letting us participate. Then, we hobbled back to the truck.
I drove us to a quaint little diner not too far from where we lived. We found a booth toward the back where we could rest our feet and not distract others with our awful appearance and funky food odor.
Liv looked over the menu and groaned. “I want all of it, all the food.”
I laughed. “Order whatever you want. I think I’m getting double of everything. I’m starving.”
Our waitress came by and didn’t falter or even raise an eyebrow as I ordered two hamburgers and a double order of fries. Liv stuck with a veggie burger and sweet potato fries, but she added an Oreo milkshake on as a treat.
“You’re sharing that,” I said as the waitress walked away.
“Because your two meals aren’t enough?” she quipped.
“I’m a growing boy.”
“No, you’re not.” She laughed. “But I’ll still share because this has to be the most original and best date I’ve ever been on. Kudos to you, Jackson.”
I mimicked the motions of tipping a hat in her direction. “I wanted to prove to you that I was different.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I know you have…how shall I put this?”
“Been around the block?” she guessed.
I smirked and shook my head. “I was going to say dated a lot, but whatever floats your boat, sweetheart. I’m sure those other men took you out to fancy restaurants and moonlit picnics—believe me, I want to do that, too—but I wanted to show you that I understand you.”
“No one has ever done anything like that for me. It was exhilarating.”
“I knew it would be, because I know you, Liv.”
“How? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and we’ve spent the majority of that time fighting like cats and dogs.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Tell me something about myself, something you’ve learned about me in the last few weeks.”
“Besides the fact that you like pink flamingos?”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, besides that.”
“You’re an incredibly good father. Everything you do revolves around Noah.”
My chest ached, hearing her say those words. I knew it in my own heart, but hearing someone else confirm it meant a lot.
“See? How do you know that after only a few weeks, Liv?”
“Because I know you,” she said softly.
“Exactly. Look, I don’t know what we’re doing. We don’t have to put a label on it. Call it whatever you want, but all I know is, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stick around until there’s nothing new I could possibly learn about you, and even then, I’ll probably still stick around just to annoy you.”
A laugh escaped her throat as the waitress returned with her milkshake. She unwrapped the straw, dropped it in, and stirred it briefly before leaning forward to close her lips around it.
She finished and then pushed it forward. She watched as I took a long sip through the straw.
“This scares me, Jackson,” she said, raw honesty written all over her face.
“Not as much as it scares me.”
“So, what do we do to make sure we both don’t run away in fear?”
“Take each day as it comes and hope that they’re all like this,” I said, pushing the milkshake back to her.
“And if they’re not?”
“Then, we come back here, order an Oreo milkshake, and remember.”
~Liv~
Making the final touches on my long braid, I wrapped the tiny black band around the end and slipped on my sandals before headin
g to the door. It was Sunday morning, and I was going through the motions of my morning ritual, preparing to make my weekly visit to Mrs. Reid.
Still in a bit of a haze from yesterday—post-date bliss I guessed—it took me a second to recognize the quiet knock coming from the front door.
I ambled down the stairs and walked to the door. I turned the handle and opened the door to find Noah standing before me. He looked nervous, his eyes downcast, and he seemed shorter, with his shoulders sinking down. It wasn’t the normal kid I was used to seeing.
“Hey there,” I greeted.
“Hey,” he answered back shyly.
“What’s up? You want to come inside?”
He nodded as I stepped aside to let him pass.
He looked around briefly before turning back to me. “My dad said you go to visit my great-grandma on Sundays?” His expression was hesitant as if he were unsure he should be asking.
I smiled warmly, trying to set his mind at ease. “I do.”
“Could I come with you maybe?”
“Of course you can. Whenever you’d like, Noah.”
He visibly relaxed.
I turned my head to the side. “I always like to eat before I go. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you have?” I asked.
He shrugged, and his light-blue eyes that nearly matched his father’s met mine. “Lucky Charms.”
I laughed, ruffling his hair as I moved past him. “Come on. I’m going to make you a real breakfast.”
I turned briefly to find him in the same spot where I’d left him in. “And you’re going to help, so don’t just stand there!”
He grinned and came racing up behind me. “You’re not going to make any of that hippie food, are you?”
I pulled open the refrigerator door. I began pulling things out and then set them on the counter.
“Hippie food?” I laughed. “What exactly is that?”
“I don’t know. Plants and nature stuff?”
“That just sounds like food to me, weirdo. Come on. We’re going to cut some veggies—you know, nature stuff.”
We chopped up some bell peppers and a few mushrooms. I even threw in a little bit of onions when he wasn’t looking.
I cracked a few eggs into a bowl, and had him scramble them while I began sautéing the veggies.
