Ready or Not (Ready #4)(30)

I mimicked the motions of tipping a hat in her direction. “I wanted to prove to you that I was different.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I know you have…how shall I put this?”

“Been around the block?” she guessed.

I smirked and shook my head. “I was going to say dated a lot, but whatever floats your boat, sweetheart. I’m sure those other men took you out to fancy restaurants and moonlit picnics—believe me, I want to do that, too—but I wanted to show you that I understand you.”

“No one has ever done anything like that for me. It was exhilarating.”

“I knew it would be, because I know you, Liv.”

“How? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and we’ve spent the majority of that time fighting like cats and dogs.”

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Tell me something about myself, something you’ve learned about me in the last few weeks.”

“Besides the fact that you like pink flamingos?”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, besides that.”

“You’re an incredibly good father. Everything you do revolves around Noah.”

My chest ached, hearing her say those words. I knew it in my own heart, but hearing someone else confirm it meant a lot.

“See? How do you know that after only a few weeks, Liv?”

“Because I know you,” she said softly.

“Exactly. Look, I don’t know what we’re doing. We don’t have to put a label on it. Call it whatever you want, but all I know is, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stick around until there’s nothing new I could possibly learn about you, and even then, I’ll probably still stick around just to annoy you.”

A laugh escaped her throat as the waitress returned with her milkshake. She unwrapped the straw, dropped it in, and stirred it briefly before leaning forward to close her lips around it.

She finished and then pushed it forward. She watched as I took a long sip through the straw.

“This scares me, Jackson,” she said, raw honesty written all over her face.

“Not as much as it scares me.”

“So, what do we do to make sure we both don’t run away in fear?”

“Take each day as it comes and hope that they’re all like this,” I said, pushing the milkshake back to her.

“And if they’re not?”

“Then, we come back here, order an Oreo milkshake, and remember.”

~Liv~

Making the final touches on my long braid, I wrapped the tiny black band around the end and slipped on my sandals before heading to the door. It was Sunday morning, and I was going through the motions of my morning ritual, preparing to make my weekly visit to Mrs. Reid.

Still in a bit of a haze from yesterday—post-date bliss I guessed—it took me a second to recognize the quiet knock coming from the front door.

I ambled down the stairs and walked to the door. I turned the handle and opened the door to find Noah standing before me. He looked nervous, his eyes downcast, and he seemed shorter, with his shoulders sinking down. It wasn’t the normal kid I was used to seeing.

“Hey there,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he answered back shyly.

“What’s up? You want to come inside?”

He nodded as I stepped aside to let him pass.

He looked around briefly before turning back to me. “My dad said you go to visit my great-grandma on Sundays?” His expression was hesitant as if he were unsure he should be asking.

I smiled warmly, trying to set his mind at ease. “I do.”

“Could I come with you maybe?”

“Of course you can. Whenever you’d like, Noah.”

He visibly relaxed.

I turned my head to the side. “I always like to eat before I go. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you have?” I asked.

He shrugged, and his light-blue eyes that nearly matched his father’s met mine. “Lucky Charms.”

I laughed, ruffling his hair as I moved past him. “Come on. I’m going to make you a real breakfast.”

I turned briefly to find him in the same spot where I’d left him in. “And you’re going to help, so don’t just stand there!”

He grinned and came racing up behind me. “You’re not going to make any of that hippie food, are you?”

I pulled open the refrigerator door. I began pulling things out and then set them on the counter.

“Hippie food?” I laughed. “What exactly is that?”

“I don’t know. Plants and nature stuff?”

“That just sounds like food to me, weirdo. Come on. We’re going to cut some veggies—you know, nature stuff.”

We chopped up some bell peppers and a few mushrooms. I even threw in a little bit of onions when he wasn’t looking.

I cracked a few eggs into a bowl, and had him scramble them while I began sautéing the veggies.

“Is that spinach?”

He grimaced as I threw in a few leaves to wilt.

“Yes, and you’re going to love it. Promise.”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced.

I let him pour the eggs over the cooked veggies. I tossed in a small handful of cheese and let it melt, and then I flipped it over and cut it in half. After only a few minutes, we had a perfectly cooked omelet.