Page 156 of The Way I Hate Him
She sniffs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s good to talk about it. It’s good to cry.”
“But on our first date? That doesn’t seem right.”
“There are no rules about first dates. We can make it how we want it.” The wind picks up the edge of the blanket, flipping it over her feet, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she cuddles in even closer.
“I just miss her, Hayes. I wish I could have spent one more day with her before she left.”
“What would that day have been like?” I never really saw them together, but I do remember how maternal Cassidy was. She always seemed to just...knowwhat people needed and when.
“It would start with our favorite breakfast of eggs, bacon, and donuts from The Sweet Lab. She loved the maple ones. Then we’d spend hours going antique shopping. She collected vintage tablecloths and runners, but only certain ones. They had to be stained and well loved.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Because the pristine ones, someone would buy, but the stained ones with tears, those still needed a home. After that, probably pick up a puzzle at Pieces and Pages. She loved puzzles just as much as I did and we’d have spent the rest of the day eating pizza, pineapple and pepperoni of course, watching old-school movies from the early ’90s, and putting together our puzzle. She would have talked about how Jake Ryan fromSixteen Candleswas the best movie boyfriend of all time, and I’d have argued with her that it was Ronald Miller fromCan’t Buy Me Lovebecause Patrick Dempsey is so hot.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know, Jake Ryan had the car. Ronald Miller had a lawn mower.”
“It was endearing,” she says, exasperated as if she’s had this conversation a million times.
“Well, either way, it sounds like the perfect day to me.”
“It would have been.”
She shivers under my arms, and I ask, “Are you getting cold?”
“A little.”
I kiss the side of her head and say, “Let’s pack up.”
“But I don’t want the night to end.”
“It won’t,” I answer as I stand and pull her up with me. “I still have other things planned.”
* * *
“Comfortable?”I ask.
“Very,” she says as she snuggles into me.
After we packed up and made the trek back to my car, I warmed her up with my heated seats and pre-controlled climate so she didn’t have to wait long to be warm. I then drove her north to a spot just past my house, where the field grass is high, there’s zero light pollution, and the sound of the ocean still fills the air.
I laid out two cushioned mats on the ground, covered them with blankets, added two pillows, and then helped her down onto the makeshift bed so we could stare up at the stars.
“This is beautiful, Hayes.”
“I’ve been here many times, especially when I need to clear my head but don’t want to be directly on the beach. It’s the best place to watch a meteor shower.”
“Have you ever taken a girl here?”
I shake my head. “Never. You’re the first.”
“I’m honored,” she says. “Your sacred spot. I can see why you’ve gatekept it for so long.”
“Not afraid of sharing it with you, but you better not take anyone else here.”
She chuckles. “Who would I take here?”
