This Girl (Slammed #3)(11)

She grins at me, then makes a face like she’s trying to stifle the grin. I wish she wouldn’t do that. Her smile is breathtaking.

“Are you really going to make me admit that I have absolutely no life here?” she says.

That wasn’t a no, so I take it as a yes. “Great. It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” I immediately turn and head back to my house before she can object. I didn’t officially ask her out. In fact, it was more like I just told her. But . . . she sure didn’t object. That’s a good sign. That’s a really good sign.

4.

the honeymoon

LAKE PULLS HERSELF up onto her elbows and rests her chin in her hands.

“You’re really enjoying this,” I say.

She’s smiling. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when you kissed me on the forehead that day it was the best kiss I’d ever had. Up to that point, anyway,” she says, falling back against her pillow.

I lean in and replicate the forehead kiss, except this time I don’t stop there. I plant tiny pecks all the way down to the tip of her nose, then I pull back. “Mine, too,” I say, looking into the eyes that I get to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ve got to be the luckiest man in the world.

“Now I want to know all about our date.” She puts her hands behind her head and relaxes, waiting for me to spill it.

I lie back on my pillow and think back to that day. The day that I fell for my wife.

the first date

I HAVEN’T BEEN in this good a mood in over two years. I also haven’t been this nervous about a girl in over two years. In fact, I haven’t even been on a single date in two years. A double load, a full-time job and a child really interfere with the whole dating scene.

There’s half an hour left before Caulder and I have to leave for school, so I decide to do a little cleaning since I’ll be with Lake tonight. I’m hesitant to take her to Club N9NE on our first date. Slam poetry is so much a part of me; I don’t know how I’d take it if she didn’t connect with it. Or worse, if she hated it.

Vaughn was never into it. She loved Club N9NE on any other night, just not slam night. Thursdays were usually the one night of the week we didn’t spend together. I realize this moment is the first moment Vaughn has even crossed my mind since the moment I met Lake.

“Caulder, go make sure your room’s clean. Maya’s watching you tonight,” I say as he emerges from the hallway. He rolls his eyes and backtracks into the bedroom. “Clean is it,” he mumbles.

He’s been talking backward since he met Kel a few days ago. I just ignore him half the time. It’s too much to keep up with.

I take the overloaded bag out of the kitchen trash can and begin to head outside with it, but I pause at the hallway. Something about the picture of Caulder and me with our dad in the front yard catches my eye. I take a step forward and get a closer look. I’ve never noticed it before this moment, probably because it actually has meaning now . . . but in the background right over my father’s shoulder, you can see the gnome with the red hat from across the street. The same gnome Lake fell on and broke. The gnome is staring right at the camera with a smirk on his face, almost like he’s posing.

I glance at the rest of the pictures on the wall, recalling the moments they were all captured. I used to hate looking at these pictures. I hated the way it would make me feel and how much I would miss them when I looked into their eyes. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Now when I look at them, I mostly recall the good memories.

Seeing their pictures brings the realization back to the forefront of my mind that Lake has no idea of the responsibilities I have in my life. I need to tell her tonight. It’s better to get it out now, that way if she can’t handle it, I won’t be too far gone. It’ll be a lot easier to be rejected by her tonight, before whatever it is I’m feeling toward her becomes even more intense.

I close the lid to the trash can and pull it to the curb. When I near the end of the driveway, I see the back door to Lake’s Jeep is open. She’s leaning all the way across the seat, searching for something. When she finds what she’s looking for, she climbs out of the backseat with a coffeepot in her hands. She’s still wearing pajamas and her hair is piled on top of her head in a knot.

“That’s not a good idea,” I say, heading across the street toward her.

She jumps when she hears my voice, then spins around to face me and grins. “What am I doing wrong this time?” She shuts the door to the Jeep and walks toward me.

I point to the coffeepot. “If you drink too much coffee this early in the morning, you’ll crash after lunch. Then you’ll be too exhausted to go out with your hot date tonight.”

She laughs. Her smile is fleeting, though. She looks down at her pajamas, then runs her hands over her hair with a slight look of panic in her eyes. She’s silently freaking out about the way she looks, so I ease her mind. “You look great,” I assure her. “Bed hair looks really good on you.”

She smiles, then leans against her car. “I know,” she says confidently, looking down at her pajamas. “This is what I’m wearing on our date tonight. You like?”

I slowly look her up and down, then shake my head no. “Not really,” I say, eyeing her boots. “I’d prefer it if you wore the house shoes.”