Somewhere, deep down in my soul, I know that Rafe is different, and I refuse to let fear consume me. As I prepare for our weekend together, I let the anticipation of our upcoming date wash over me, and everything else melts away.
By the time the doorbell rings, I’ve forgotten all about my encounter with Adrian. I’m giddy all over again at taking the next step with Rafe. As I take one last look at the guestroom and walk down the stairs, I’m more than ready to close this chapter of my life and start a new one.
So why, in the back of my mind, am I terrified?
As I reach for the door, I push the doubts away. I know I should tell Rafe that Adrian was here, but the last thing I want to do is place a cloud over our first official date. Instead, I let my excitement consume me. I’m beaming from ear to ear, practically bouncing on my toes when I pull it open. He’s standing there, looking absolutely delicious in a pair of low-riding jeans and a blue button-down shirt that’s rolled up to show off his muscular forearms. The hue of his shirt makes his eyes seem even more azure than they normally are, and I could lose myself in them. His eyes rake over my body, and a blush creeps onto my cheeks. I’m dressed in a simple, little, black sundress that accentuates my curves.
“I know you said dressed up, but most of my fancy clothes are from him and I don’t want to wear those for you . . . or ever again. Luckily, I had the wherewithal to keep some of my old stuff in the back of my closet, and this was the best I could do,” I tell him with a shrug.
His hand comes up to brush a curl behind my ear. “You look beautiful, Brie. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You are breathtaking as always.”
My blush deepens, and he laughs, taking my hand and walking me towards a sleek, black car that replaced his work truck. We make small talk as he drives us to a restaurant downtown, and I delight in being with him on an actual date. It’s completely comfortable in this cozy setting that is neither flashy nor opulent. I can’t even remember the last time I ordered a meal for myself, and Rafe doesn’t even mind that it takes me a good ten minutes to decide what I want.
As we settle into our meals, I put my fork down and look around, reveling in the fact that we’re out together, in public, like a real couple. When my eyes come back to the table, he’s looking at me with amusement.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Brie?”
“This . . . Just everything. It’s slightly overwhelming, yet it feels so right, doesn’t it?”
“Nothing’s ever felt more right.” He smiles as he grabs my hand from across the table. “I know you weren’t sure if this was what you wanted, but thank you for giving us a chance.”
I smile softly as his thumb rubs the top of my hand. “You know . . . I once told you no one ever called me Brie, but that was a lie.”
His thumb stops its soothing strokes.
I’m quick to continue. “My . . . It was my parents. They used to call me that when I was little. Once I got into junior high, I thought Gabriella sounded so much more sophisticated.” I pause, a small laugh escaping my lips as I shake my head. “Even though I kept insisting they not call me Brie, my dad always did. It seems so silly now, caring about my name, because I’d give anything to hear him say Brie one more time.”
“Brie,” he whispers, leaning forward, his eyebrows narrowing with concern. “I had no idea.”
A lone tear spills over, and I’m quick to wipe it away and smile at him. “I know, and I think that’s what makes it special. I’ve never allowed anyone else to call me by that name, but the first time you did, I didn’t want you to stop. When you call me Brie, I feel special. At home. Maybe even at peace a little bit. That sounds crazy, I know, but . . . it’s part of what drew me to you.”
He sets his napkin down and inches his chair forward. “Brie, will you tell me about them? I meant what I said about getting to know you. I want to know everything about you. You’ve completely captivated me, and I want to know you better than anyone else ever has.” His eyes tell me that he means every word.
Can I do this? Can I talk about this? I never even did with Adrian. I haven’t with anyone.
“Everything?” I ask before anxiously swallowing a drink of my wine.
“Every little detail,” he replies, his gaze unnerving. “I want to know it all.”
Letting out a slow breath, I decide I can do this. In fact, I want to. It’s been so long, and I’m finding that I want to tell him all about them and my previous life. Before I can begin, however, Rafe reads my expression.
“Would you be more comfortable if we did this somewhere else? We can go back to my place for more privacy.”
“Mr. Matthews, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get in my pants,” I tease, loving how at ease he puts me. He always seems to know exactly what I need.
“You don’t know better, Ms. Latham. My intentions aren’t pure, but I promise we’ll talk first,” he offers with a smug grin.
Because I might break down, privacy sounds perfect. “That would be nice. Let’s go home, Rafe,” I tell him.
His eyes flash as my words register. My cheeks flush at the implication, but neither of us says anything about it as he pays the check.
The drive to his place is quick and silent, and I wonder if he can hear the pounding of my heart as we pull into an apartment complex. This is it. I’m actually here with him for the first time. Nervous excitement flows through me as we exit the car and ride the elevator to his floor.
We enter the apartment, and he gives me a quick tour. The apartment is just I’d expect a single man’s to be—practical furniture, a massive flat screen. And when he leads me to the bedroom and drops my overnight bag, I cock an eyebrow up at the enormous king-sized bed.