Was Ro wrong?
Undecided.
I had enough self-awareness to see she may have some valid points. Objectively, I couldn’t disagree with her. It wasn’t a flat-out no.
So, maybe?
Did it change anything?
Not at all.
Did it explain a lot of things?
Possibly.
Did it change anything between Deacon and me?
Not one bit.
So maybe she had a point, maybe she didn’t.
I arrived at Deacon’s, taking the box of cookies, suddenly wishing I’d worn the blue sweater, and rang the doorbell.
I could hear shuffling and what was possibly claws on floorboards, then a deep, raspy bark. “Mildred,” a familiar voice said before the door opened. Deacon grinned at me, bathed in warm light. At his feet was the cutest freaking dog I’d ever seen. Mildred was an English bulldog, and looked remarkably as if she was created in Minecraft. And no other name but Mildred that would have suited her. “Hello,” Deacon said. “Please come in. Don’t mind Mildred. She normally has manners.”
I stepped in, my boots and legs being sniffed and snuffled by an excited Mildred. I handed Deacon the box ofcookies. “For you and your parents.” I gave Mildred a pat, which made her snuffle and wiggle in the cutest way. “Oh my goodness, she’s adorable.”
I pulled off my boots and Deacon hung my coat and scarf by the door. “She is.”
I noticed then, the most amazing aroma. “Something smells wonderful.”
“Dinner,” he said, as I followed him through their house. There was wood paneling, tiled floors, timber trims. The whole house was a palette of warm greens and browns, and I immediately felt at ease here. It definitely had the feeling of a home.
In the kitchen, Deacon’s mom was at the fridge, and his dad was cutting a slab of meat.
“Mom, Dad,” Deacon said. “Winter’s here.”
They each smiled at me, fond and genuine. “Oh, hello again,” his mom said. “Please call me Vicky.”
His dad put down the carving utensils and quickly wiped his hand before offering me a handshake, completely pretending he hadn’t come to see me at the store to talk to me about Deacon. “Hello, thanks for coming. Call me Wayne.”
“Thank you for having me,” I said.
Deacon held up the box of cookies. “Winter brought these.”
“I couldn’t turn up empty-handed,” I said, a little embarrassed at being the focus of attention.
His dad peered in through the clear lid. “Oooh, Christmas cookies! My favorite.”
Deacon laughed. “Any cookie is his favorite.”
“Correct.”
Vicky took the box. “Thank you, Winter. It wasn’t necessary but I do appreciate it.”
“Yes, it was necessary, thank you,” Wayne said, openingthe box and plucking a cookie from the top. He shoved it into his mouth before Vicky could stop him.
“Oh, Wayne,” she admonished, with nothing but love in her eyes. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”
