I throw my napkin at them, but my heart’s not in it.
Goldie’s phone buzzes, and she gives us an apologetic look.
“Sorry, I thought I’d turned my sound off.” When she looks closer, she giggles. “Look.”
She holds up a text from her dad.
It’s a picture of Camden and Kevin. Camden is stretched out on the couch, on his side, and the dog is curled up on his hip. Both are sound asleep.
“Dad says he forgot to send this in the group thread this morning,” Goldie says. “I’m gonna heart it and then put my phone away because it’s going to be buzzing for a while after that.”
“Not the only thing buzzing,” Erin says, pointing at me. “Look at that swoony face. Mm-hmm, sparks.”
I put my face in my hands and groan, which just makes them laugh harder.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FIRSTS
CAMDEN
The idea hits me in the middle of prep at Elm & Echo. One second I’m whisking together a sauce, the next I’m staring out the kitchen window, thinking about Juju. Grandma Donna is right. Kisses are easy. Dates take intention. And I want this to mean something.
So the next morning, I duck into The Kitty-Corner Cafe before work. The bell above the door jingles, but otherwise, it’s quiet in there––I chose a time when I hoped it would be. Juju’s behind the counter and looks surprised to see me.
“Hey,” she says, smiling at me.
I’ll never get tired of that.
“I have a question,” I say, lowering my voice as I lean across the counter. “Would you go on a date with me tomorrow night? I know it’s Valentine’s Day, so no problem if that’s too much for you.”
Her grin grows, her eyes lighting up. “I guess I could handle that.”
Someone walks in behind me, so I straighten, but I whisper, “I really want to kiss you right now, but I’ll save it for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she says softly.
The next day, I put my plan into motion. Grandma Donna’s been my co-conspirator, insisting she knows the exact balance of “romantic but practical.” She helps me load up a picnic basket she dug out of storage, complete with checkered napkins. I make roasted chicken sandwiches on the fresh rolls Grandma Nancy made, snuck to me by Grandma Donna, and we pack chips and cheese and crackers and nuts and fruit and anything else I can think of that will still be good after a little drive. I even tuck in a little container of the chocolate mousse I once overheard Juju say she was unable to resist. Grandma Donna throws in some cookies and peppermint candies.
I hold up the hand- and foot-warmers I’m bringing, and Grandma Donna nods her approval.
“Good. We don’t want our girl getting cold,” she says. “It’s harder to feel the romance when you’re too chilly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, laughing.
By the time I arrive at The Kitty-Corner to pick Juju up, I’m buzzing with nerves. I told her only to dress warmly, and she listened. She’s in her thickest coat, scarf looped around her neck. She looks…adorable.
I tell her so, and I add “And prepared to climb El Capitan” as I hop out to open the passenger door.
“Well, you saidwarm,” she says.
I’d hoped she wouldn’t glance in the back seat, and she doesn’t. It helps that it’s already getting dark.
“What are you up to, Whitman?” she asks.
“Thought I’d spend this Valentine’s Day with the woman I’m hoping is my valentine.”
I look at her once we’re driving, and she’s staring back at me with an unreadable expression.
