Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(47)

Ridge: Did that document have my name in the title?

Sydney: Maybe. Don’t worry about it.



I glance down at her, and she’s trying to stifle a smile. I shake my head, almost certain I know what she just did.



Ridge: Do you save things? Things I say to you? Like…you have an actual file of things I’ve said to you?

Sydney: Shut up. You act like that’s weird. Lots of people have collections.

Ridge: Yeah, of tangible things, like coins or taxidermies. I don’t think most people collect pieces of conversations.

Sydney: Fuck off.



I laugh and then highlight her sentence and copy it. I open a new Word file and paste it into the document, then save the file as, “Things Sydney says.”

She shoves me in the shoulder. I close my laptop and then shut hers, and slide them both to the other side of her. I wrap my arm around her and rest my chin on her chest, looking up at her. “I love you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Quick bean church.”

I tilt my head. “Say that again. I’m pretty sure I misread your lips.”

“Quit. Being. A. Jerk.”

I grin at my bad lip-reading and then kiss her chest. Then her neck. Then I peck her on the lips and pull her off the bed. “Time for our date. Let’s get dressed.”

She signs, “Where are we going?”

I shrug. “Where do you want to go?”

She grabs her phone while I’m putting on my shirt and she texts me.

Sydney: Would it be weird if we went back to that diner?

I try to recall a diner that we’ve been to, but the only one I can think of that she might be referring to is the one I took her to the first night we met in person. It was her birthday, and I felt bad that her day was so shitty, so I took her for cake.



Ridge: The one close to my apartment?



She nods.



Ridge: Why would that be weird?

Sydney: Because. It was the first night we met. And maybe going there on our first date would be sort of celebrating that moment.

Ridge: Sydney Blake. You have got to forgive yourself for falling in love with me. We’ve shared a lot of chapters that don’t need to be torn out of our book, simply because there are things in them you don’t like. It’s part of our story. Every single sentence counts toward our happy ending, good or bad.



Sydney reads my text and then slides her phone in her pocket like dinner is solidified thanks to that last text. She signs the next thing she says. “Thank you. That was beautiful. Bridge. Cloud. Pimple.”

I laugh. “Was that supposed to be a real sentence?”

Sydney shakes her head. “I don’t know how to sign a lot of words yet. I decided I’m just going to make random words up when I don’t know how to sign what I really want to say.”

I motion for her to get her phone out of her pocket.



Ridge: You said bridge, cloud, and pimple. LOL. What were you trying to sign?

Sydney: I didn’t know how to sign that you are getting so lucky after this date tonight.



I laugh and wrap my arm around her, pulling her until her forehead meets my lips. Damn, I cannot get enough of my girl. I also can’t get enough of the bridge, cloud, pimple.

???

We drove Sydney’s car to my apartment because I didn’t have my car, and we can’t walk to the diner from her apartment like we could from mine. She insisted we walk like we did the last time we came here. Sydney ordered breakfast for dinner, but she also ate half my onion rings and three bites of my burger.

We decided to play twenty questions during dinner, so we used our phones instead of signing because it was hard to do that and eat at the same time. In the forty-five minutes we’ve been here, I haven’t thought about my fight with Maggie. I haven’t thought about how behind on work I am. I haven’t even thought about that damn Game of Thrones spoiler. When I’m with Sydney like this, her presence absorbs all the bad parts of my day, and I find it so easy to concentrate on her and only her.

Until Brennan appears.

Now, I’m concentrating on Brennan as he slides into the booth next to Sydney and reaches across the table for my last onion ring.

“Hi.” He pops the onion ring into his mouth, and I lean back in my seat, wondering what the hell he’s doing here. Not that I mind. But it is our first official date, and I’m confused why he’s crashing it.

“What are you doing here?” I sign.

Brennan shrugs. “I don’t have anything scheduled tonight. I was bored and went to your apartment, but you weren’t home.”

“But how did you know we were here?”

“The app,” he says, pulling my soda to him and taking a drink. I give him a look that lets him know I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“You know,” he says. “Those apps you can use to track people’s phones. I track yours all the time.”

What the hell? “But you have to set that app up with my phone.”

Brennan nods. “I did like a year ago. I know where you are all the time.”

That actually explains a lot. “That’s weird, Brennan.”

He leans back in his seat. “No, it isn’t. You’re my brother.” He looks at Sydney. “Hi. Nice to see you fully clothed.”