by Sarah Adams
“Ta-da,” I say and then feel really stupid. Is it weird to be proud of your selection of feminine hygiene products?
Her mouth falls open. “Why do you have a closet full of pads and tampons?”
“My sisters are never prepared, and I got sick of making tampon runs when they would come over to hang out or watch Sam. I decided to just stock my house. And it’ll come in handy when Sam…well, you know.”
She laughs and stares at the closet. “I’ve never been so jealous of anything in my life. I’m so cheap that I always buy the smallest boxes possible like I might not get a period next month.” She pauses and looks at me hesitantly. “Was that TMI?”
I laugh. “Evie, I have four sisters, a mother, a ten-year-old daughter, and I was married for nine years. I’m very aware that you have a period, and I’m not at all embarrassed by it. You shouldn’t be either.”
She quirks a brow at me. “Are you about to give me a speech on feminism and how I should be proud of my womanly body and its functions?”
I let my gaze travel the length of her, and when my eyes meet hers again, I say, “You definitely should be proud of your body.”
She shoves my chest with a guttural laugh. “If anyone but you said that to me, I would show him the new skills I’ve learned in my self-defense class.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I can deliver a line better than any other man in the world?”
“Okay, get out.”
I agree, but not before leaning down to kiss her rosy cheek. “We’re good?”
She smiles, brushes her wavy hair behind her ear, and I swear she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “We’re great. But we’re going to have a whole different problem soon if you don’t get out of here and let me steal one of these tampons.”
I lean in a little closer and drop my voice to whisper seductively against her ear. “If you’re lucky…I’ll even let you take home a whole box.”
She pretends to shiver. “I thought you didn’t want to be my sugar daddy?”
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Evie Jones.” I said that in a serious tone because I am serious. In that moment where I thought she was going to walk out my door and out of my life, I was ready to throw all my fears out the window and tell her I’ll do serious. I would have made a Facebook profile just so I could change my status to In A Relationship to make her happy.
Her dark-green eyes lock with mine, and she raises up on her tiptoes to lay the softest, most alluring kiss on my mouth. It's not nearly long enough. “And I’m happy to take things slow for you, Jake. I’m glad you were honest with me.”
And this, people, is what a healthy relationship looks like. And yeah…I’m feeling hopeful about a woman for the first time in a year. The question is, how long will it last?
Chapter Twenty-Four
EVIE
It’s 9:30 PM and Jake and I have moved outside to swing on his back porch. The night is warm, and the stars are bright against the black backdrop of the sky. We leave the porch lights off and decide to swing with the moon as our only light. It’s romantic and quiet and still.
When we sit down on the swing, Jake reaches over and pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I’ve learned that he’s an affectionate man, and I still can’t believe I get to know that about him. I also like his deodorant. I briefly wonder if I could get away with using some before I leave without him noticing. That’s creepy, right? Yeah, let’s forget I considered it.
Jake picks up his phone again and checks the screen. He’s had that thing glued to him all night, and if I didn’t know the real reason he was checking it so much, I’d be worried he was waiting for a booty call from another woman. But I don’t say anything about it because I know that he’s just worried about Sam.
It strikes me how different this first date is from all of the others I’ve been on. Not only have we already made out in the kitchen and discussed my menstrual cycle, but usually on a first date, I would maybe be holding his hand with about twelve inches still neatly placed between the sides of our thighs (make room for the Holy Spirit as Grandmama used to say). But as it is, Jake has me tucked in so close to his side that I’m pretty much sitting on his lap. (Sorry, Grandmama.)
I feel like a little bunny rabbit, so I nestle in a little closer to his stupidly defined side and sigh with contentment inside my burrow.
“Sam’s going to be just fine,” I say when I catch him checking his phone again.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No. I’m lying. If you weren’t here to tether me to this porch swing, I’d probably already be in my truck, halfway to Jenna’s house to get her back.”
I reach across him and lace my fingers in his. His hands are calloused and warm. “Just say the word and I’ll handcuff you to this swing.”
He looks down at me with a big fat smirk. “Oh really? So now I know you're a butt girl AND a little kinky.”
I poke him hard in the side, and he laughs. “Not like that, you weirdo.”
How is it so easy with him? It’s not supposed to feel like this. We’re supposed to feel awkward and uncomfortable, and by now on a date, I’m usually texting Jo an “SOS” so she’ll call and say my house is on fire and I need to come put it out.
Instead, I’m rubbing my thumb across the back of Jake’s knuckles and wondering if he’d be scared if I asked to go ahead and move in? Truth is, I’m falling head over heels for this man, and it’s scaring me to death. He wants to go slow. And I want to punch the gas. I feel safe with Jake, and the sensation is entirely new for me.
But I’ve watched enough movies and dated enough jerks to know that something is probably waiting around the corner to jump out and bite me. Maybe I don’t have to take a turn at all, though. No corners. No dark hallways. And I definitely don’t have to walk through any creepy doors that would have the audience yelling, “Don’t go in there, you idiot!!”
I think Jake and I have this dating thing figured out. We’re being adults, communicating through our issues, and honestly, I’m really proud of us.
I sit up a little and pull my knees up on the swing to be more eye level with Jake. He holds me tight, though, saying with his body, “Uh-uh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, you sexy lady.” I added the “sexy lady” bit to boost my own confidence. Don’t judge.
“Let’s play a game to distract you from worrying about Sam,” I say, turning my torso to face him.
He smiles and picks up my legs and drapes them over his lap. So, WHOA. I guess he’s feeling comfortable on this first date, too. I can hear my grandmama trying to remind me of the Holy Spirit, but I remind her—as every dutiful Southern child would—that the good Lord lives in my heart.
“What sort of game?” His blue eyes are sparking, and my whole body flushes. I can see his mind working, and honestly, it’s not fair. These mixed signals are torture. We’re playing tug of war between fast and slow, but I can’t keep up with who’s tugging for which end. What happens if we both give up?
Chills race across my arms, and I dust them off with my hands.
“It’s called the honesty game.”
“So, truth or dare?” Would he quit talking like that? In that deep, sexy, husky tone that’s dripping with innuendos?
“Noooo,” I say, tugging on the slow side of the rope. “Just the truth game. It goes like this: one of us asks a question, and the other answers truthfully.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Yeah. So just basically talking, then? I don’t think you can call it a game if one of us isn’t daring the other to take off their clothes and jump in the pool if we don’t want to answer the question.”
I gasp and give him a big poke in the side again (because let’s face it, I like feeling his obliques). “You wouldn’t! I thought you were a gentleman.”
He chuckles and grips my legs as he squirms away from my tickling pokes. “I would soooo dare you to skinny dip.”
“I thought you were wanting to take this whole t
hing slow.”
“Want? No. Will? Yes.” Why am I let down by that? I want to smack myself with a ruler. Behave, Evie.
I’m supposed to be grateful for the good guys who want to respect me. I’m supposed to respect myself enough to make sure men do, too. Girl power. Feminism. And something else about milk and cows that I can’t remember anymore because Jake is now massaging my feet. Like WHAT? What man does this on a first date? How is he so good at knowing what a woman really wants? I think I’m half in love with him already.
“Are you feeling okay? Need a heating pad or anything?”
Never mind. It’s full-on love.
“I’m okay, thanks.” What I really want is to get inside Jake’s head and learn everything I can about him. I think the idea of the truth game freaked him out a little, and that’s why he was sidestepping it with a joke. But guess what? I like to wave at the relationship no-no stop signs as I’m speeding by them. “Okay, first question: why did you get divorced?”
Jake’s eyebrows raise, and he swivels his face to give me a disbelieving stare. “Wow. You didn’t waste any time with that one.”
“I like to live on the dangerous side.”
Jake takes in a full breath and lets it out. “Can I just take off my clothes and jump in the pool instead?”
Not picturing that. Not picturing that. Not picturing that. Shoot. I pictured it. And YEP. I’m debating letting him do it now. “No. You’ve gotta answer.”
He winces and then settles back against the swing, busying himself while he talks by rubbing his hand up and down my leg. Not distracting at all. “All right, here it is. I didn’t really date in high school. I was more focused on my grades and sports than girls. My mom likes to say it was because I was a really great kid—but actually, it was because we didn’t have any hot girls in my grade.”
I laugh and give him ten points for honesty.
“When I graduated and started college, I met this really forward girl. She was”—Jake takes on a distant look that kinda makes me feel jealous, but I decide to chill—“physically attractive and had a sort of larger-than-life attitude. She drew me in with her beauty and charm, and I fell for her fast and hard. I proposed after only a month of dating, and she said yes. We set the wedding date for six months after I proposed, and she was already two months pregnant with Sam on our wedding day.”
“Whoa,” I say with an awkward smile. I think I was secretly hoping for one of those divorce stories where he realized instantly that she wasn’t the right woman for him, and he’s been miserable for the last nine years. Yeah, I know, that was kind of gross of me to think. But I never claimed to be a saint.
“Yeah. It was intense. And honestly, those first few years were great. We were so wrapped up in each other and our newlywed bliss that it felt like nothing could stop us. I graduated from college, and Natalie, Sam, and I moved to Texas so I could work at a big-box architecture firm. Natalie decided to drop out of school right after she had Sam, so she never finished her teaching degree. After about five years of marriage, things started to get really rocky. I decided that I wanted to branch out and open my own firm—and also that I missed my family and wanted to be closer to them.
“We moved here to Charleston, and money was really tight for the first two years of getting my firm off the ground. Natalie grew restless, so she started spending more and more time at the gym. She became a Pilates instructor, and then it was like, before I knew it, we were never seeing each other anymore. Natalie would still spend time with Sam, but not much. I felt guilty, thinking that maybe Natalie was so restless because she gave up her dreams to stay home with Sam while I went after mine, so I started taking over the brunt of the parenting responsibilities.
“Things just got worse, and she became more and more distant. She completely changed her appearance and lost like thirty pounds. It was like she was always chasing a happiness that I couldn’t give her. Finally, last year, she told me that she met someone else who could give her the life I couldn’t.” He laughs a mirthless laugh. “He was a pilot.” Jake finally looks at me. “Turns out, it’s not just me who can’t give her the life she wants. She’s had three serious relationships in the past year.”
“Wow. Jake. I’m so sorry. That sounds…terrible. You and Sam deserve better than that.”
He shrugs. “Sam does, for sure.”
I take his hand in mine. “You do, too.”
“I wasn’t perfect, Evie. No failed marriage is the result of one person.”
I know he’s right. But I also know Jake, and I’m sure that he’s done nothing but beat himself up for his mistakes this past year and replayed a thousand different scenarios where he could have done better. I think right now he just needs someone on his side that can scoop him up off the ground, dust him off, and say try again.
But then again, maybe that’s just me being selfish, because I really want Jake to try again…with me.
It breaks my heart to see how sad Jake looks right now, so I decide to lighten the mood. “Yeah. You’re right. I think if you would have just sacrificed a little and gotten butt implants or something for her, it would have solved your problems.”
Jake barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me. “You and butts.”
I don’t know how this has become my thing, but now I’m 100% certain that if Jake and I make this work, he’s going to buy me a mug for Christmas that says I like big butts and I cannot lie. I’ll worry about that bridge when I have to cross it.
“So,” he says, giving me a vulnerable smile that melts me a little. “Now that you know all the baggage I’m carrying, do you still want to date me?”
I feign a look of contemplation for a second before my eyes shift to him, and I lean in slowly to place a soft kiss on his mouth. I hear him take in a breath through his nose, and his hand lands on my jaw. But then, before things get too interesting, he groans and breaks the seal of our lips. He’s smiling and shaking his head. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to distract me out of my turn.”
“Shoot. I thought that was going to work.” I lean my shoulder against the swing. “Fine. Do your worst.”
“Tell me about your relationship with your parents.” Ouch. So this is how it feels when someone goes right for the kill.
I scrunch my nose and try to decide where to start. Fifth-grade talent show, when my mama scolded me all the way home for missing the high note and coming in third? Nah. Instead, I tell Jake what it was like growing up in a house with parents who only care about money and status. I told him how the only time my mama ever showed me any affection was when we were in public and a woman that appeared to have better domestic skills was watching. “And now, they are trying to freeze me out. If I’m poor enough and hungry enough, they think I’ll come to my senses and marry Tyler. But the joke is on them, because I know how to make a pack of Ramen noodles last a whole week.”
“Which reminds me, I grilled an extra steak for you to take home.” He just keeps getting better.
“Careful. I’m like a stray cat. If you feed me, I might keep coming back.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.” He smiles, and my stomach turns inside out.
“Anyways, I just decided that if I’m never going to be good enough for them, I might as well have them be disappointed in me for doing something I love rather than living a life that makes me feel like crap.”
He reaches up and runs his hand through my hair. The look on his face says he’s wanted to do that all night—maybe even since he met me. “Evie, let me say what your parents are too stupid to recognize: you’re an incredible woman.”
I’m not good with compliments. It’s either because I’m not used to hearing them, or because I’ve heard so much criticism over the course of my life that I can’t believe the good things people tell me, but either way, I want to throw my hands up and bat away those compliments like I’m Babe Ruth. “Eh. I’m messy, and forgetful, and I don’t like greens.”
Jake’s eyes grow serious, and I’m
sure he’s about to try to convince me of my merits, so I stand up abruptly and smooth out my shirt. “It’s getting late. I better call an Uber. Charlie’s getting antsy.”
Jake lifts his brows and glances around me. I follow his gaze to my traitorous dog who’s curled up in a comfy little ball by the porch railing. “You’re right. He looks super anxious.”
“Yep. This is how he manifests anxiety. He looks chill, but believe me, inside, he’s fit to be tied.”
Now, run, Evie.
Jake grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. “Why are you getting squirmy again?” He stands up and invades my space.
“I’m not,” I lie. I’m squirming because Jake is the first man in a long time that I’ve wanted to look into my eyes and convince me that I’m worth something. I really can feel myself falling for him, and falling in love with someone on a first date is definitely not slow material.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says quietly. Well, that’s definitely not going to help anything either. “Not like that. I just mean, stay here tonight. We can stay up all night talking, or watching a movie, or whatever. I just…I won’t get many chances like this to spend time with you without Sam, and I want to take advantage of every minute I get.”
I should go home. I should NOT stay.
Ohhhhh, but I want to stay. Staying sounds like a dream. And Charlie does look awfully comfortable. What kind of a heartless terrorist would I be to wake my sleeping pup when he looks that comfy?
Jake squeezes my hand, willing me to say yes. I’m opening my mouth to say just that when our attention is distracted by the sudden buzzing of his phone.
He lets go of my hand and darts to his phone. Noticing the number, his eyes flash worry at mine. “It’s Jenna’s parents.”
“Answer it!”
He puts the phone to his ear, and I can see the worry and dread filling his face. “Will. Is everything okay?” He listens for a minute, giving away no hints of what Will is saying. I wish I had asked him to put it on speaker. Is Sam okay? Did she have a seizure?
