Chapter Thirty-Five
“First dates are nerve-racking. But the first date after you’ve screwed up on something is the worst of all.” - Warren
DEREK
I’m nervous as all hell.
I don’t think since I met Birdie that I’ve ever felt this nervous when it comes to seeing her, to seeing Rora again. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve been in this apartment, since I’ve hugged either of them, since I’ve felt part of their little family.
Tonight is my night to prove I still belong here.
When I’d gotten Birdie’s text this morning, I nearly fell over from shock to see her texting me back, finally. She held out on me forever, at least it seems that way.
I’ve been working diligently over the last week, trying to get everything established for the expansion of Fowler Hardware, and not only is that going well, but the store is booming. Though the locals who came through did ask more than once where “my girls” were, which pierced my heart every time I heard it.
But I held steady, explaining they would be back.
Because frankly, if they don’t come back into my life, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
This, tonight, is my chance to get them back.
I stand outside, two bouquets of flowers in one hand and a six-pack of root beers in the other as a nod to the first time I came over here. Root beer was our thing now, Rora and me.
Birdie answers the door after a minute and gives me a small but sincere smile. “Hey.”
I stare for a moment, seeing her hair in those big, gorgeous honey-blonde waves I love, sliding over her button-up shirt and over her jean-clad legs. She looks dressed like a mom from the ’90s, and I’m obsessed with the way she looks.
“Hey.” I finally find my voice. “You look incredible.”
That blush I love of hers so much creeps onto her cheeks, and she ducks her head a little. “Thanks, Derek. You look nice, too.”
I smile at her, just glad I was being given a second chance when my faith and hope in getting one had been slipping. I didn’t think she was going to let me back in, but I’m holding on to that sliver of hope that this is my chance to earn her back.
“Derek!” The loud, excited voice pulls my attention from Birdie’s face to the little version of her that barrels out of the doorway. Her arms wrap themselves around my legs, and I try to pat her on the back with my full hands.
“Hey, Rora,” I say, but there’s emotion in my voice that I don’t mean to display. I don’t want her to think I’m sad, because I’m not. I’m thrilled, relieved even, to be on the receiving end of a hug.
“You came back!” Rora steps back and looks up at me, her legs bouncing up and down and looking at me with excitement that I’m here.
“Well, let’s let him inside,” Birdie says, seeming to just notice I’m still on the porch.
I follow them in, and it feels like coming home. My tension, my nerves, my anxiety that have plagued me for the last two weeks slip away as I look at the familiar surroundings. Everything is just as it was before: Birdie’s fluffy blanketover the back of the couch, the coffee table covered in children’s books, and toys in the toy box against the wall.
Pictures of the family and Hattie’s small but growing stack of books are on the shelves, including the one I got her for Christmas. And when I turn into the kitchen, where the kitchen table sits, half is covered in Rora’s art supplies, and there’s something cooking in the oven.
I set the root beer down and take the two bouquets, handing the smaller one to Rora and the bigger one to Birdie. “Some flowers for my girls,” I say, kneeling down and holding my arms out for Rora, who launches into them without reservation. I missed them, so damn much.
“Thank you,” Birdie says softly, then prompts Rora to do the same.
“Thank you, Derek! I want them in my room!” She bounces off then, running down the hallway to put her flowers away.
I turn back to Birdie and desperately want to take her into my arms again. I nearly do it too, but she quickly turns to the oven and starts checking things.
“No Hattie tonight?” I ask, trying to keep myself calm and casual.
“No, she had a work meeting thing and then trivia, or something,” Birdie says, scrunching her nose like she’s thinking of where her sister is.
“Ah.” I nod, then bite my lip, wanting to rejoice in being here, wanting to scream from the rooftops that I was back in the vicinity of the woman I love. But I keep my mouth shut and motion to the kitchen. “Anything I can do?”
