“It was lovely, thank you.”
“Eloise, I hope it isn’t too soon to say that tonight was maybe one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in recent memory, and I would very much like to do it again.”
“For me too. And yes, I would love to see you again.” I love that he is doing this now, here, in the car. It is almost as if he is assuring me that he isn’t going to pressure me to continue the evening, to go further. It is a gentleman’s ask and I’m enormously grateful. Because, as much as my body is responding to him in all sorts of flashy ways, I know I’m not ready for more. Not yet.
“I’ve got some family obligations the rest of this weekend, but maybe Monday or Tuesday night?”
I think quickly. Monday will be chaos with the Farbers just getting back. But Tuesday I have Lawrence, which is pretty easy, so I can use the rest of that day to prep some stuff for Wednesday so that I won’t have to get up quite as early.
“Tuesday would be perfect.”
He smiles. “Wonderful. Can we keep the time a little flexible? I have an afternoon surgery that should be done by five, and I should be able to do the paperwork quickly, but just in case, can we say I will pick you up somewhere in the six-thirty-to-seven-thirty range? I’ll text you when I am out of surgery with something more precise.”
“Of course. That would be fine.”
The car pulls up in front of my house. Shawn holds up a finger to me to indicate that I should wait for him to come open my door. He gets out of the car and walks around to get me, then escorts me up my front steps.
“Thank you again for a wonderful night,” I say.
“Thank you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, and look forward to seeing you Tuesday.” He leans down and kisses me one more time, his hands in my hair, holding my head to his. Then he takes my key from me to open my door, kisses my hand when he gives me the key back, and heads back to the car.
I head inside, drop my bag on the console table by the door, and, with my feet barely touching the ground, go over to the couch in the living room. I flop down, and Simca hops up beside me. She looks at me with her head tilted like she doesn’t recognize me at all. I can’t blame her, I barely recognize me either. Unable to wipe the grin off my face, I reach for my laptop. There are several e-mails from Teresa and Lynne.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]; [email protected]
Subject: Sunday is the big day!
Hope you girls are ready for our burlesque class! El—how was date #3? Horror show? Joey says Angelo will be in touch soon . . .
T
Lynne has already replied.
I am only doing this for moral support.
Yeah, El . . . how did it go tonight? Short? Comb-over? Milo is out of town this week, but I know he will be in touch when he gets back.
L
________________
Yeah, well, Milo might be out of luck if Angelo gets there first . . .
T
________________
Cousin Joey’s bestie? Doubtful.
L
It is sort of annoying that they both appear to be assuming my date would be a disaster. But now I have a problem. Because for some reason, I don’t want them to know about Shawn. I don’t want to hear their opinions; I don’t want to solicit their information. I weirdly don’t even want to tell Marcy quite yet. He feels like a delicious secret that is just for me. Like the little treat chefs hide in the kitchen for themselves for after the party is over . . . the oysters of the chicken, the ends of the brisket, the last piece of bacon, the corner brownie. Kissing Shawn feels like licking the bowl of frosting once the cake is finished, or eating the last spoonfuls of still-warm risotto in the pan while you are cleaning up. Extra special, private, the littlest bit naughty.
I hit reply all.
Date was fine, not horror show, neither short nor bald nor unpleasant, nothing much to report, dinner was good. I feel like I am going to get the hang of this dating thing. Will look forward to hearing from Angelo and Milo to see which of them can win my love.
Speaking of which . . .
T—Anything heating up at your house besides lasagna?
L—How did the meeting with the matchmaker go?
Oh, and by the way, signing you guys up to come to a glassblowing class with me as part of my list.
XOE
I shut the computer down and let Simca out into the backyard for her nightly business. My phone pings. I have a text from Shawn.
It’s going to be really hard for me to fall asleep with this grin on my face. You are delicious. I hope that is okay to say. Sleep tight.
I type quickly.
It is very okay to say. Thank you for such a great evening. Sleep tight yourself.
I head upstairs, get ready for bed, let Simca come cuddle up beside me, and find that despite Shawn’s worry, you can actually fall asleep smiling after all.
Ten