“Wake up, Auntie Cassie!” Ozzie screeches, getting me into a chokehold. Who needs caffeine with these two, honestly.
We’re on the deck repotting some houseplants (well, Mica’s watering mostly himself and his sister) when Mar and Logan arrive. After all hugs are had and bags are packed, Mar hands me a crate of wine.
“Oh my god,” I say, almost falling over when I take it. “This is too much.”
“No, it’s not,” she says firmly. “You had to go to the hospital and hang out with a kind-of ex for me.”
“Because I’m the world’s worst babysitter!”
“Shut up already. Show me what you’re wearing tonight for the date?”
After they all leave, Daniel sends me a text asking for my address. We make plans and I spend the rest of the day prepping my bod for this very-big-deal first date. And at seven on the dot, the doorbell rings.
He’s right on time. Tonight, anyway. In life, he’s a little late.
I open the door and Daniel’s standing there holding a bouquet of dark purple calla lilies wrapped in butcher paper, tied with a dark-green velvet ribbon. The sight of them fills me with intense pleasure.
“Hello,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile as he takes in my loose gray trousers and clingy powder-blue cardigan with only two buttons fastened. My wavy hair tumbles over my shoulders, having been air-dried and artfully “undone.”
“Hello,” I say back, opening the door wider. He hands me the flowers.
“Beautiful,” I say, taking them gingerly, not wanting to crush a single stem. “Come in, I just have to grab a jacket.”
He’s looking around my place, staying in his spot in the entryway, when I come back from my room with a suede jacket. When I look at him quizzically, he points to his black oxfords. “Don’t want to move beyond here.”
“Ah, your British parents taught you well,” I say solemnly.
He laughs. “Actually, it was my flatmate out of uni. A Chinese American bloke who nearly murdered me when I wore shoes into our flat the first day.”
“Good man. Or bloke,” I say. “Oh, and one second.” I duck to the corner of the dining room where Betty is currently hidden fromview. I pop in some treats and she makes a loud squawk, furious that my movements are so rushed. And pecks my hand for good measure.
“Is that a bird?” I hear him ask from the other room.
I close the cage and walk back to him, nursing the attacked finger. “Define ‘bird,’ ” I say dryly.
“Did itbiteyou?” he says, stepping over instinctively, forgetting about his shoes. He gently takes my hand to look at it.
“Oh, yeah. Betty shows all feelings by biting,” I say, letting him cradle my hand in his for a second before pulling it away. “I’m fine, she didn’t even break skin this time. Downright mild!”
“Wow,” he says. “Living on the edge, here.”
I’m slipping on some kitten-heeled mules when he says, “Your house is a perfect little dream. The structure, your furniture, all the details like those cupboard handles…just really gorgeous.”
I soak in the words. “Thanks. I grew up in this house and it took me a few years to make it really feel like my own.”
“You grew up here?”
“Yeah, long story,” I say. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”
On our drive, Daniel fiddles with the music so much that I take over, picking Caribou.
Some light chitchat about our weeks is exchanged before I bring up what happened yesterday with Ellis. I want to get it over with.
“So, he knows?” Daniel finally says when I’m done explaining.
“Yeah. And sorry if you didn’t want him to know, but I did. I just didn’t want this to feel all covert andbad.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. He would have found out, you’re right.” But something seems to be bothering him. After a few seconds he says, “How does Ellis always seem to be there when you need him?” His tone is genuinely perplexed, not bitter or insinuating.
