The next fifteen minutes are filled with our baby girl shoutingLuvooon repeat between fits of giggles, and although the sheer decibels she's producing stab directly into my brain, it's my new favourite sound. And almost enough to distract me from Brad's upcoming date. Almost.
20
THE COO OF PIGEONS
BRAD
6th September2025
The doorbell rings,and my palms dampen with the sound. I don't understand why I'm feeling nervous, though. I’ve known Larissa for a few months, and this our third date, not the first. Why is my stomach trying to join the gymnastics team?
I try to regain my composure as I suck in a shallow breath, fingers wrapped around the door handle. Swinging the door open, my stomach settles slightly at the sight of Larissa looking shy and unsure on my doorstep.She's so pretty. “Hey, Riss, you look lovely.” I kiss her on the cheek and take her by the hand, “Come on in. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Mmm, it smells so good, what are we having?”
“Nothing too exciting. Mushroom, asparagus and parmesan risotto with a side of garlic flatbread.”
“That sounds very exciting! And delicious. Oh, before I forget,” she digs around in her tote bag and pulls out a plant, holding it out towards me. “I got you this,” she trails off witha pained look on her face before ploughing on, “You know, because I don’t like turning up empty-handed, but then I didn’t know whether to bring a bottle of something since you work at a bar, and then I thought maybe a dessert, but what if you’d already made or bought dessert? Then it would just be a waste, but I really, really didn’t want to show up with nothing, so I thought maybe a plant. But what kind of plant? Because what if you’re not a plant guy and you forget to water it, or you hate the high maintenance ones, then the poor thing will just die, lonely and forgotten. AndthenI thought an orchid would be good because really, they only need watering, like, once a month, but what if you hate flowers? So I settled on an aloe vera plant because it’s low maintenance and can be good for sunburn since you love surfing.” She gasps in a heaving breath at the end of her adorable monologue, looking mortified, and it takes a monumental effort not to laugh at how cute she is.
“Thank you, Riss, this is very thoughtful. I love it. Truly.” I take the plant from her and give her a quick peck, unable to fight the smile tugging at my cheeks. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’m happy to drink whatever,” her posture relaxes, and she smiles sweetly.
I've noticed she'll often defer to someone else when presented with a choice. Almost as if she's worried about putting people out by choosing something for herself. “Riss, you can drink anything you like as long as I have it here. What's your preference? I have wine in all the colours, some spirits, beer, pop, Fruit Shoot, water, milk...it's a veritable bar in here with everything I have stocked for Shari and Lizzie.”
Larissa's quiet laugh tinkles between us as she wrings her fingers together. “Um, I don't know. What are you drinking?”
“Probably an IPA,” I don't miss the flinch she tries to hide, but I'm not even a little surprised when she opts for it as well.
“Oh, yeah, IPA is good. I'll just have one too.”
“Riss. Sweetie. Do you even like IPA? Honestly.”
Her eyes flick to the wall and back, “Um, it's ok?”
I can't help but laugh in disbelief. “Larissa, no, you don't. I can see it all over your face. I promise, I won't be put out by whatever you choose.”
She huffs out a breath, and her shoulders deflate. “Well, if you're sure, I'd love a glass of rosé?” She takes a quick step forward to touch my forearm and rushes to add, “If you have it, if not, that's fine, I'll drink any wine.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I dip my head down for a kiss, “I have rosé.” I pull out a bottle from the fridge and pour her a glass. “It's Shari's favourite, La Vieille Ferme.”
“Oh, chicken wine! This is a nice one,” she agrees.
Raising an eyebrow I turn to her, “Chicken wine?”
Larissa blushes and ducks her head, her hair falling forward to cover her face. “Um, yeah, I started calling it chicken wine when I couldn't remember the name. Because there are chickens on the label,” she murmurs at the floor.
It's adorable that she still gets this shy around me, so I pull her to me by her waist and tuck her light brown hair back behind her ears once again. “Don't do that, don't hide from me. You have nothing to be shy or embarrassed about.”
“Sorry, I can't help it. I'll try to do better,” her eyes flit between mine, brow furrowed.
“Sweetie, don't do that either. Don't feel like you're disappointing me. I just want you to be comfortable enough around me to feel confident about just being yourself.”
“I do!” she blurts, suddenly clutching my elbow like she's worried I might pull away. “I do feel comfortable around you. I swear. I'm just nervous tonight.”
“Why are you nervous?” Why are we both feeling this way?
“Because,” she starts to duck her head again before stopping herself, and levels her gaze somewhere around my collarbone, “Ijust kinda thought, because you're cooking me dinner, and we're in a house for the first time, with it being our third date and all, that, well, you know.”
