Kiss and Don't Tell(67)
“You have. Now get it together, Lawes, and focus on this putt. I set you up, now you take us home.”
Chuckling, I get ready for seventeen more holes with an intense Winnie at the helm.
“You do remember the rules, right?” Winnie asks as I lie across the blankets in the loft, our lunch between us.
After a grueling eighteen holes with Winnie chastising and cheering, we played another game of rock paper scissors, and I ended up winning again with paper. I chose lunch in the loft, picnic-style. There are plenty of other places where we could eat lunch, but I wanted something intimate, something where we could be alone.
The loft is a transformed attic space. Holmes will come up here on occasion to read, but thankfully, he’s stuck to the library today. But it’s a small, pitched-ceilinged space no bigger than sixteen by sixteen. The room is filled with blankets and pillows to lie on, as well as a few adult-sized beanbag chairs. The room is lit only by bulb string lights, and there are two windows that can be propped open too. Taters never comes up here anymore because Sarah actually designed the room. It’s hella romantic and exactly where I wanted to have lunch with Winnie after a competitive morning with the golf simulator.
“What rules?” I ask.
“The no-sex and naked rules.” She lifts a brow at me.
“What makes you think I’m going to break the rules?” I prop the windows open, letting the sound and fresh smell of rain filter in.
She gestures to the room. “This is what girly dreams are made of. The lights, the pillows and blankets, the hot guy, the finger foods we can easily feed each other. I can see this getting incredibly romantic incredibly quickly.”
“It’s already romantic, Winnie. Deal with it.” I take out the glasses I had Stephan pack for us and I pop open one of the blueberry lavender ciders I know she loves so much.
Sitting across from me, her legs are crossed and she’s watching my every move as I prepare our picnic with drinks, a wooden charcuterie platter, and the chocolates I got from the candy store yesterday. Once everything is ready, I glance at her and I see the question in her eyes.
“What?” I ask her.
“Just thinking.”
“What are you thinking about?”
She motions to the set up. “Have you, you know, done this before?”
“A picnic?”
She shakes her head. “No, have you set up such a romantic meal before, for someone special?”
“No.” My eyes meet hers. “You’re the first.”
“But you’re so good at it.”
I shrug. “Just trying to make it nice for you. No experience necessary.”
“Well, thank you. This is more than you needed to do.”
I hand her a glass of cider. “Do you remember the second half of this lunch?”
She sips her drink and briefly closes her eyes, pleased with the flavor. “I do. You get to ask me anything, and I can ask you anything in return.”
“Exactly. Since I won rock paper scissors, I get to ask first.” I motion to the food. “Feel free to eat.” I pick up a piece of cheese and a cracker and I pop them in my mouth. Winnie does the same and waits patiently while I think of a good question for her. “Tell me one thing you wish Josh did for you but never did.”
She has her glass midway to her lips when she pauses. “Coming in hot with the hard-hitting questions. I wasn’t expecting that. In fact, I wasn’t expecting you to want to know anything about Josh, to be honest.”
I’m not completely sure why I’m asking, either. “I don’t really want to know anything about Josh, but I’m curious, I guess, about where you felt let down. Maybe I don’t want to be another one of those people. That said, you didn’t think I was going to toss you some softballs, did you?”
“That’s very sweet, Pacey. And . . . I appreciate that. You. But, yeah, I thought maybe it was going to be something like ‘what’s your favorite dinner?’ My answer would’ve been chicken parmesan with garlic bread.”
“Noted, now answer my question.”
“Hmm.” She picks up another piece of cheese and takes a small bite from it. “I don’t want you thinking Josh was entirely bad. He was really good at the beginning of our relationship, but then he just . . . stopped caring. Stopped trying, and that’s when we grew distant. During the time we were growing apart, he always relied on me to cook him dinner, which was fine. We were living together at the time—”
“You lived together?” I ask, slightly shocked. I wouldn’t have guessed that.
“Yeah, for a year until I moved back in with my mom to take care of her. He wasn’t happy about that choice. He’d stay with me on occasion, but those visits became shorter and shorter. But when we lived together, I kind of wished that every once in a while, he’d surprise me by making dinner. It was challenging working all day at the bookstore and then being expected to make something for him for dinner.”
I try not to show my anger too much, but seriously, what a fucking tool. I don’t know that much about Josh, but from what my dad has told me, he’s very self-righteous. He believes everyone owes him something. My dad thinks it stems from growing up without a dad. The bitter attitude. The anger he carries heavily on his chest. And the worst part is Josh blames my dad, when my dad had no idea he even had another son. If Josh needs to be mad at anyone, it’s his mom.