I have to admit, it is nice having someone check on me. I mean, Meghan calls almost daily and Shanice texts, but it’s different with Joel.
“Coming,” I call out as I grab my gold clutch off of the couch and then heel-toe on my strappy, three-inch sandals at the door.
“Hi,” I say as I open the door.
Joel’s eyes widen and the look in his gaze sends a chill down my spine.
“You look …” his voice is gruffer than usual, “amazing.”
“Thank you,” I reply instinctively as my eyes dip. A giddiness I didn’t even have when Tommy Clarkson picked me up for my very first date at sixteen, with a handful of flowers he’d picked from his mother’s garden, overcomes me.
“These are for you,” he says, his voice still sounding hoarse, as he hands me the most exquisite bouquet of red and white roses. The flowers have been arranged into individual white and red rows, held together by a green glass vase.
“Johnson called this bouquet a Candy Cane Swirl,” Joel says.
The bouquet is very beautiful and holiday themed.
“Roses are my favorite,” I say, smiling down at the flowers before bringing them to my nose.
“I know,” he replies.
I tilt my head to the side as I lower the bouquet. “I told you that?”
Joel’s eyebrows raise like a deer in headlights. “You must’ve,” he answers, then taps his temple with the tip of his forefinger. “I’ve gotta mind like a steel trap. Nothing escapes my memory.”
For a second, I run through our previous conversations, trying to recall when exactly I told him about my love of roses. Then I decide it doesn’t matter, since these are gorgeous and I’m excited for our date to get started.
“These are already in water so I can just set them here and will find a place for them in my office tomorrow.” I stick the bouquet on the side table by the door before wrapping my arm around Joel’s.
The smile he gives me as I step out onto the porch with him is close to devastating. He’s so handsome. The laugh lines around his eyes and the grey hairs add to his sex appeal. Few men can pull off the mix of rugged rancher, silver fox, and hardworking family man all in one.
Joel does it with ease.
“When I called for a reservation, Darlene asked if I preferred a table outside to look out on the Riverwalk or indoors. I booked one of each,” he tells me about ten minutes into our drive.
“Why both?”
“Wasn’t sure which one you wanted. Thought it’d be wise to give you the option to choose.”
My heart, which had already begun to cave underneath the weight of this man’s presence, just cracked even more.
“That’s extremely considerate of you,” I say, honestly.
Instead of accepting the compliment in stride, as I expected, Joel looks over at me like I have two heads.
“What?”
“Considerate? That’s baseline,” he says. “Taking into consideration where you would prefer to sit is the bare minimum.”
I cock my head to the side, examining him. Does he really believe that? After a few moments of contemplation, I conclude that yes, he does believe in what he just said.
It doesn’t escape me that somehow, it’s me who’s still learning to not accept the bare minimum from the man I’m with. Even five years after leaving my husband for this same reason, I find there are pockets of this that I need to unlearn.
“Outside,” I finally say. “I hear the Riverwalk is beautiful at night during this time of year.”
Joel nods. “The Riverwalk then.”
The choice toeat outside was a good one. Laughter of couples walking hand in hand as they stroll along the riverside, or children playing and giggling over the Christmas lights that decorate the trees and lanterns, float to my ears.
