I blinked, trying to regulate my breathing, my heart rate, and the jitters in my tummy. “It did.”
“Small steps,” Winter said with a grin. “You did great.”
I nodded, feeling braver now. And happy.
I’d taken a chance. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and it had gone well. Better than well, even. “Thank you, for letting me try, and for not making me feel foolish.”
His eyes softened. “You’re welcome. But can I let you in on a little secret?”
I nodded.
“The other night, you held my sleeve,” he said. “And that was the cutest, most romantic thing ever. I mean, holding hands would be awesome, I’m sure. But anytime you want to hold my sleeve, you absolutely can.”
I huffed out a laugh, embarrassed. “I, uh, I used to do that to my parents. When I was little.”
“Ahhh.” He lifted both shoulders, wiggled, and sighed. “It’s the cutest thing ever. I love it. So romantic.”
Romantic?
I shook my head, possibly rolled my eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” He beamed at me. “You send me lines of poetry and hold my sleeve. Deacon, you’re the most romantic person I’ve ever met.”
My face felt like it was on fire, and I wasn’t sure where to look. “I need to go homenow.”
He was quiet, and when I risked a glance at him, he was smiling at me. “Same.”
We packed up the kittens, locked up the store, and got them bundled into his car. I opened his driver side door for him, trying to muster some of that courage I’d felt earlier.
“Thank you,” he murmured, one foot inside the car. Then he stopped to face me. His breath was puffs of steam, his beanie pulled low, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold. “I’m so glad I got to see you tonight. Thank you for your help, and thank you for telling me how you feel.”
“How I feel?”
“About wanting to go on a dinner date with me. About how you want to try. About all that stuff. It’s not easy to talk about, but we did great. And we’re dating now.” He grinned. “I’m especially glad we discussed that.”
“Me too.” Then, before I lost my nerve, before my overthinking could get the better of me, I said, “And yes. I’d like to go. To the Christmas dinner. If that offer still stands.”
He grinned at me. “Yes, of course it still stands. I’ll tell Hamish to expect us both. And you still have to come to dinner at my place sometime. Another dinner date. Or a movie date. Or to my work for a lunch date.”
“Do you like saying the word date?”
“Yes.” He laughed, but then one of the kittens meowed. “Okay, okay,” he said to them. “I’m getting in. We’ll be home soon.” Then he looked at me. “Goodnight, Deacon. I’m so happy. And I’m already looking forward to your poem in the morning.”
That made me laugh. “I have a list.”
He sighed. “I love lists.”
Both kittens meowed at him this time. “I have to go,” he said, looking at me as if he didn’t want to leave just yet. But then he got in his car and I closed the door.
With a wave, he drove off and I walked to mycar. The air was bitterly cold, the night dark, but I was warmed through, happy. Happier than I’d ever been. My heart felt full to almost bursting, but in a good way. I had no tummy aches, no anxiety, no confusion about anything.
No overthinking.
Main Street was lit up, the streetlights and Christmas lights were a soft glow in the cold air, the snow on the ground made it all look so peaceful.
I took a moment to enjoy it, not something I could ever recall doing, got in the truck, and drove home.
Mom and Dad were both still up, waiting to see how my night had gone. I didn’t even have to say anything, but they seemed to know just by looking at me. I felt like I was walking on air.
