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“I’m pretty sure I owe you one too.”
He smiles over at me.
We pull into the parking lot, and this time, when we walk into the restaurant, I’m not looking for a man with a bouquet of peonies. But when the hostess leads us to our table, I stop in my tracks when I see a vase full of my favorite flowers in the center of a four-seater.
“You brought peonies?” I ask Marcus.
“Your favorite. And I got a bigger table. But I still might bump knees with you.”
“Some things should never change,” I say.
When the waitress shows up, she’s already carrying lemonade and an ice tea. She sets my drink in front of me. Marcus raises his glass, looks me in the eyes and says, “Here’s to new beginnings.”
We toast, and I take a sip of my drink. It’s sweet with just enough tartness to almost make me pucker.
“You always smell like lemonade,” Marcus says in a soft voice that tells me he’s not teasing. “Like a lemon grove. Lemons and flowers. I like it.”
“Did you practice compliments in the mirror before our date?” I ask him.
Am I using humor a little to deflect from the feelings threatening to bubble over? A little, yes. Marcus Delaney is potent enough. Marcus Delaney dishing out compliments is slightly overwhelming.
“Maybe,” he says. “Did my practice pay off?”
“I’m not used to … this,” I say, pointing between us.
“I’m just saying all the things I kept to myself over the past five months or so.”
“Pace yourself, QB,” I say.
He leans back. His knee knocks mine. He lifts his brows and lets them fall in an expression that is definitely flirtatious.
“You’re dangerous,” I say, taking another sip of my lemonade.
“Back at you,” he says.
I smile. And we slip into a familiar space the rest of the night: a little banter, a lot of flirty looks, some sweet talk, mostly on his part, good food, and dessert, which he eats since it’s off season. He offers to pay the check and I let him.
“No arm wrestling?” he teases.
“I’m good,” I tell him. “I know when I’ve been beaten.”
Over the next two weeks, Marcus surprises me.
He’s definitely putting effort into dating me. He sends me flowers at work—roses—which sends Loretta into her rendition of Rose of My Heart. He calls me every day and he texts. I tease him that he needs a hobby. The truth is, I don’t know what to make of this influx of kindness and sweet gestures. Is this just how Marcus dates someone, or does he feel more for me than I imagined? He’s still restrained like he’s taking his time.
Most nights he calls me to video chat before I fall asleep. Winona says this is how she thought we’d be before. She chides herself for not being more suspicious that we were putting on a show. But that’s not my sister. She believes the best of people. I still kick myself for not telling her, of all people.
She’s not wrong, though. This is how we would have been.
Marcus brings me lunch at work, takes me out to dinner, he even took my car in to have the oil changed.
He's doing all the boyfriend things—and not because we're faking.
I still haven't told him how I feel. I want to. He deserves to know.
I guess I'm afraid to run him off. He's showing interest, but interest isn't the same as feeling like you've found your person. I don't want to scare him with some giant profession of love when he's just seeing where this could go. He’s all in, but we’re still new, sort of. In some ways we’re like a couple who’s been together over six months. In other ways, we’re in the early days of dating.
So, I'm enjoying the attention, and definitely giving him plenty in return.
