Safe ones. From a ten-year-old’s perspective, that might be the highest compliment.
“Sleep,” I tell her. “You’ve got practice tomorrow.”
“And maybe the park?”
“Maybe.”
“That means yes.”
I kiss her forehead and turn off her light. In my own room, I check my phone. There’s a text from Darian.
Today was perfect. Thank you.
I type back:Thank you for being patient with her.
She’s easy to be patient with. Like her mom.
Smooth talker.
Just honest. See you tomorrow.
See you tomorrow.
I set the phone aside and stare at the ceiling. Tomorrow he’ll be back. And the day after that, probably. And somewhere in all these tomorrows, we’re building something. Not rushing, not forcing, just building.
This feels like something, he said.
Yeah, it really does.
darian
. . .
The text comesthrough while I’m changing guitar strings at the shop, and I have to read it three times.
Dinner. My place. 6pm. Lily wants to show you something she learned.
No question mark. Not an invitation. Just Rye stating what’s happening, making it about Lily when we both know this is bigger.
I type back:Should I bring anything?
Just yourself.
You sure about this?
Three dots appear and disappear four times before:No. Come anyway.
At least she’s honest. I finish restringing the Gibson and clean the space Benny graciously gave me so I could work on my guitars. I head upstairs to shower and figure out what to wear to dinner with a woman who I’m falling for but doesn’t trust anyone and her daughter who doesn’t know we’ve been together.
Fun times.
I go with jeans and a henley, my Doc Martens, and go back and forth on whether I should put a hat on or not. Stormy toldme girls dig guys who wear their hats backward. I don’t really want to take advice from my teenaged niece, but she definitely knows way more than I do. After adjusting my ball cap one too many times, I leave it on the bed, run my fingers through my hair and call it good.
On my way to Rye’s, I stop and buy flowers. Two bouquets because I don’t want Lily to feel like she doesn’t matter. As far as I’m concerned, if it wasn’t for her, Rye wouldn’t invite me over. So, maybe I should just get them for Lily.
Nope, I buy two. I’m not in the business of upsetting women.
This is my third time coming over. The last two were planned. Everything about Rye’s text tells me this is a spur-of-the-moment decision.
