I’m on my way toward making some new friends. And it sucks that I’m lying to them.
“Sorry this isn’t some fancy restaurant,” says Nash, sitting opposite me.
Turns out the only place open on a Monday night in town is the bar. Though some fancy restaurant in a larger town or city would be dangerous, what with him being a world-famous musician.
“This is good.” I smile. “The company in particular is excellent.”
“And the hot dogs?”
“Who doesn’t love a hot dog?”
One side of his mouth rises. Making this man smile is officially one of my favorite things. “Can’t believe you don’t use mustard.”
“It’s just not my thing. And anyway, ketchup is my queen.”
We sit huddled over our small table with our heads close together. There’re two jars between us. One with a tealight candle and the other with a small selection of flowers. It’s giving romance, which is not generally the bar’s vibe. Same goes for the love songs playing on the jukebox. Guess Nash organized it with Rose. Which is sweet. And if he told her this was a date it probably also explains why we have an audience. Because the dozen or so people gathered over by the bar aren’t being exactly subtle with their gossiping and glances. Life in a small town continues to be wild. The way everyone knows your business.
“How did things go at the salon?” he asks.
“Got an excellent haircut and blowout with a lecture about the sanctity of marriage.”
“Let me guess…Father Frank?”
“No. Bernadette.”
“Ah,” he says. “The good father cornered me at the library earlier. He gave me a hell of a sermon.”
“People got opinions.”
“They sure do.”
“I noticed your things are gone from Grandma’s house.”
“That they are.” He nods. “You were busy working, so I didn’t want to disturb you. But I would be delighted to move your things to my place if you’re so inclined.”
“Maybe we should take it one day at a time. Or one night at a time.”
He pauses. “Is that what you want?”
“It seems sensible.”
“My treasure…when has sensible ever had anything to do with us?”
“Valid.”
“We’ve known each other for days now.Days. What could possibly go wrong with moving in together?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” I say. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“And I appreciate you taking it seriously, in case I haven’t said so.”
My heart thumps hard beneath the cage of my ribs. God, he gets to me.
There was no hint of such hunger or longing in my last relationship. Like the whole world could disappear. So long as he stayed, I don’t care. And the idea of losing him, of going back to an ordinary world, is frankly terrifying.
Grandma was right about Mom not being particularly affectionate. Though it went deeper than that. She was so hyper-focused on her career and own personal interests. It left no room for me or mine. Which might explain why I settled for substandard with the ex. I haven’t had a lot of love in my life, and I was so scared it would mean everything, that I didn’t let it mean anything. I just kept my heart locked up tight.
Quite the revelation to have in a small-town dive bar. And I am not labeling what’s between us “love.” Because real enduring emotions take time to build. Trust must be earned. Respect and care shown in meaningful ways. Or at least I assume that’s how it works.
