She doesn’t observe any physical-space rules. Jumping into his arms, she yells, “Thanks, Reid.”
Gotta hand it to the guy; he doesn’t even flinch. He takes my daughter in stride.
“I’m a college professor. I’m used to shrieking girls,” he says, reading my mind.
“Ready, Gabbs?” Leona is ready to bolt. “I have fettuccine alfredo on the menu and cherry cheesecake for dessert. Tomorrow’s a new year, a new day.” She winks at Reid and shimmies her hips.
“Oy.” I can’t help myself. It slips out.
“Don’t youoyme,” Leona says, joking with me, then tells Gabby, “Say ’bye to your mom and let’s roll.”
After I give a hug and a kiss to Gabby with promises for more tomorrow, they leave.
The door closes, and Reid moves in close, slides his arm around me, and whispers, “Now I can say a proper hello.”
He’s not wearing his glasses, so he gets super close to my face and rubs his nose along mine. I smell his cologne—Gucci for men.
I know because I asked when we were at Lumberjax. As we were leaving, I said, “You certainly don’t smell like you were throwing axes,” and he simply replied, “Gucci for men.” I made a mental note then and there to buy a bottle and spray a few drops on my pillow.
Now his lips meet mine, his cologne long forgotten. We kiss slowly, softly, our mouths closed, hinting at what’s to come in the new year. It feels hopeful, like when a rainstorm is passing and the sun is beginning to peek out once again.
In this moment, I vow to tell Reid the truth. It’s my New Year’s resolution. But not tonight. Tonight isn’t the right time. Tonight is about us and feeling good, ushering in a new year and new experiences.
As my tongue enters his mouth, seeking his, my mind wanders. I hope my story, the one about the bitchy bloggers, softens the ultimate blow when sharing the truth. I didn’t make a syllable of it up. That really happened. Of course, I omitted coming home and starting a parody blog, one that poked fun at the livelihood of others. At the time, it felt smart. Even sane.
Now I know it’s wrong, but I’m too far down the rabbit hole. How else will I support Gabby?
“If we don’t go now, we’re not going,” Reid says, knocking me out of my worried fog.
“Let’s go,” I say, adding silently,and hurry back.
Sitting in the back of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, with exposed brick behind us and voices and the scent of tomatoes and garlic swirling around us, it feels right. Not perfect, not wrong, but right. Here at Piccolo Piccola, a converted house turned bistro, I feel like a queen. A checked tablecloth covers the table, a bottle of cabernet sits in the middle, a basket of fresh bread and olive oil with gorgonzola to its left, and Reid to my right.
“Cheers,” he says to me, clinking his glass against mine.
The waiter tells us the specials, and Reid says, “We’re not in any rush. It’s a special date night, got a sitter and all that jazz.”
My heart is swept in a wave of emotion until the server says, “Your son or daughter, I’m sure, is having a great night. Enjoy yourselves.”
“Um ...” I feel as if my body’s been swept underwater, caught in the riptide, and I’m unable to breathe. Do I need to explain? The waiter is confused, but does he need to know the truth?
“She is, and you’re right.” Reid takes over and winks at me. All the winking has me woozy tonight.
“Thanks,” I tell him when the server leaves.
“I hope you don’t mind. I took liberties there, but I just wanted him to go. Do you think Gabby’s dad would mind?”
I shake my head. “Only if you were drinking a gourmet cup of coffee.”
“I don’t want to bring tonight’s mood down, but I want to say, I can’t believe he gave all that up. Gabby’s wonderful. Thank you for sharing her with me.”
I stare, not knowing what to say. Reid with his brilliant green eyes, his slate-gray shirt tucked into dark-washed jeans, his hair tousled and stubble along his jaw. He’s everything.
“Thank you for being so kind to her. I feel bad; I didn’t realize how much attention she was missing out on until you came. I thought I could be it all for her. Mom, dad, everything, you know?”
“You’re doing great.” His free hand covers mine. “Not that I’m an expert, but to me, it looks like you’re the best.”
I close my eyes and inhale the compliment. It washes over me in a way I didn’t know I needed it to. Three words is all it takes for my heart to completely capitulate.
