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CHAPTER SIX
Christy
Before he puts the truck in drive, he stops and turns to me. “I have no idea where to go for lunch.”
A small giggle escapes my lips at his honesty. “How long have you been here?”
“I got here on Sunday night.”
I raise my eyebrows a little. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Exactly. That’s why I don’t know where to go.” The playful shrug he gives me is absolutely adorable. “What’s your favorite place?”
I point to the right. “There’s a café up the street. We can go there.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He puts the truck in drive and heads out of the parking lot toward a diner that I’ve always enjoyed on days when I’m not in a rush and just stuffing food in my face before getting back to reality.
I give him directions to the place, and within a few minutes, we are pulling behind their building, where there is more parking. Thankfully, we’ve missed the lunch crowd, but there’s still a decent amount of people here.
“Just the two of you?” a woman asks as we enter the building, a bell ringing above us.
“Yes, please,” Evan responds.
She guides us to an empty table. “I’ll get you some waters, and your waitress will be right over.”
We both thank her and pick up our menus to see what sounds good.
“So …” he starts while looking over the menu. “Are you a soup-and-salad kind of girl, or do you go all in with the tuna melt?”
I search for the item I want. “I’m a,” I respond slowly, “Joe’s Special girl with sourdough toast.”
“And that is?” he continues, looking for the item on the menu.
“Sausage, eggs, spinach, and mushrooms as a scramble.”
“Breakfast for lunch? I can dig that.”
“I can do breakfast for lunch or dinner. I don’t think it needs to be a solely morning thing.”
He nods as he searches the menu some more, then puts it down. “I’ll do the burger. Can’t go wrong with that.”
“They are good here. Nolan gets the kid version when he comes.”
A small smile graces his face. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s simply the craziest boy you will ever meet.”
He laughs out loud. “That is not what I expected you to say.”
“And believe me, he’s not what you’d expect either.”
“How so?”
I shake my head in thought. “He’s just … a very spirited child.”
His lips purse together as he nods, raising his eyebrows, like he’s holding back a laugh. “Spirited, huh? Tell me more?”
Before I can answer, our waitress comes over with the waters the other woman offered. “Here you go,” she says as she sets them down. “Are you ready to order, or do you want a few more minutes?”
“We’re ready,” Evan answers her, then motions for me to go first.
We place our orders—me drinking coffee and him sticking to water.
“Just water?” I question once she walks away.
He holds it up, then takes a sip. “Ah,” he says after he swallows. “Always been my favorite drink. I try to drink a gallon a day.”
“A gallon?” I ask in shock.
“Yep. We’d go to the store and buy those gallon six-packs, five at a time. My dad would always say, ‘This is what it’s like, raising an athlete,’ when people would look at us like we were crazy.”
“I can imagine that would get some looks.” I chuckle.
“So, back to Nolan,” he prompts. “What makes him so spirited, as you say?”
I think about how to respond. “He’s definitely one of a kind. Super funny without even trying, but can be spicy as hell if he wants.”
“Can I ask where his dad is, or is that too forward of me?”
I shrug. “It is what it is. I didn’t know he was married.” I pause and wait for his reaction, which comes in the way of his eyes opening wide, but he doesn’t say anything else, so I continue, “His wife tried to label me as a gold digger, saying I got pregnant on purpose, so I walked away and have had zero contact with him ever since.”
“Then he’s never met Nolan?”
“Nope.” I shake my head, not losing eye contact with him. I never try to shy away or waver in any way when speaking about Nolan’s father. I made my decision to not have anything to do with him, and I don’t regret that one bit. “He’s not listed on the birth certificate either.”
“Good for you,” he says with a genuine grin, which surprises me.
Most people have an opinion on the matter or at least question things, but he doesn’t.
“My sister ended up with a deadbeat baby daddy who has been nothing but drama. It would probably be easier if she just cut him out of their lives,” he goes on to say, which makes more sense now. “She met this really great guy about two years ago though, so that’s made dealing with her ex more tolerable.”
“She didn’t tell me she had kids when we spoke.”
He drops his head to his chest with a sigh. “I’m sorry she talked your ear off.”
“No!” I respond, holding my hand out to him, waving his negative thoughts away. “It was fun. Our conversation just flowed, and I didn’t even realize we’d spoken that long until I looked at the clock. I enjoyed talking to her.”
“Yeah, she’s a talker for sure.”
“It’s obvious she cares about you. It’s nice to have someone like that in your corner.”
He nods. “It really is. She’s helped me with every move.”
“She finds a new hairstylist every time you move?” I ask.
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. You’re the first. Most of the time, I just walk into those sports-type places for a quick cut. Since I am hopefully sticking around here for a bit, she wanted me to have—as she stated—‘a real place to go.’”
I grin from ear to ear. “Well, I’m glad she did,” I say as our food is served.
“Me too,” he responds with a sweet expression that I try not to get lost in because I so could.
When we get to Target, he grabs a cart, then motions to me. “Lead the way.”
I grab a pretend sword from my side and pull it out dramatically, pointing in the direction we want to go. “To the dishes!”
Without a second to spare, he responds, “To the dishes!” He leans down and runs with the cart, charging like he’s in a group of fifty and not by himself, racing through a department store.
I stop and place my hands on my knees, laughing harder than I should.
He stops, too, and turns to look at me. “Too much?” he asks with a shrug.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Never. Nolan would be running right next to you.” I walk up to where he is, and we continue at a normal pace. “My entire life these past seven years has been Nolan. I forget sometimes what it’s like to hang out with adults. But you just jumped right in, going along with my playful moment.”
“You do realize I literally play for a living, right?” His lips tilt up on one side. “I hope I never have to grow up and stop playing—in every aspect of life.”
“Was baseball always your dream?”
“Yep. Ever since I picked up that plastic bat and tee when I was two. I have a picture of me with a pacifier in my mouth, swinging the bat left.”
“Why does swinging left matter?”
“I’m right-handed, but I bat left. Lefty hitters have a slight advantage with right fields being shorter. My dad went with it and never tried to correct me.”
“Is that normal to be right-handed and swing left?”
“It’s not abnormal; there are definitely other players who do the same thing, but most people bat on the same side they throw.”
“Nolan is left-handed.”
“Oh,” he says with a touch of excitement in his voice. “Does he pitch?”
“He’s seven. It’s coach pitch still.” I chuckle. “Slow your roll. You sound like those dads out at the field.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Because it matters.”
I nudge him playfully toward the aisle we should enter and reiterate, “He’s seven.”
We grab everything we need from dishes to silverware to kitchen towels and all things in between.
As we’re checking out, he watches the total stack up. “I have never spent this much money at Target.”
“You’ve also never had to fill a house,” I remind him while I’m still unloading things from the cart.
“Do we really need this?”
He holds up a cheese grater, and I laugh out loud.
“I personally have three because I use it so often and don’t want to wash it, but, hey, you do you, boo.”
He turns to face me. “Did you just call me boo?”
I giggle, dropping my head to his shoulder. “Sorry. I have a lot of sayings that just slip out of my mouth sometimes.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s cute.”
I grin as we stand there while the employee continues to ring up our purchases. He turns and checks out the random items they have for sale in the checkout aisle when the employee calls out the total.
He doesn’t hear him, so I tap his shoulder.
“Money, bitch.”
A loud laugh escapes his lips as he turns to me in shock. “Money, bitch?”
“Yeah,” I deadpan, trying not to crack a smile. “Pay the man.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He takes out his wallet and winks in my direction. Then he says to the employee, “This woman here has spent all my money today, so the credit card company may think it’s been stolen.”
He enters it into the machine, and a few seconds later, it says Approved .
“See, we obviously haven’t spent enough if it’s still going through,” I tease.
“Oh, no. We’ve spent enough!”
The employee laughs as he hands us the receipt, and we say our goodbyes.
Once we load everything into the truck, we hop in, and he turns to me. “You are going to come help me put all this stuff away, right?”
I check the time. It’s six twenty. We’ve spent all day together, yet it feels like not much time has passed. I know Nolan is totally fine, staying at my sister’s a little longer since he begs to do that many nights anyway, so I figure, Why not?
“Sure. Why don’t we go get my car from the salon first so it’s not sitting there after everyone has gone home?”
We head to the salon, and I guide him to where I’m parked.
As I step out, I say over my shoulder, “I’ll just follow you, okay?”
“Yep, I’ll lead the way,” he responds with a simple grin covering his face, which is so pure and genuine—rare from people I meet nowadays, especially guys.
Getting my car had two motives behind it. One, to actually get my car, and two, to call my sister and gush about our day together.
Of course, she answers on the first ring. “I have been glued to my phone, waiting for your call.”
I stifle my laugh and pretend like it’s any other day. “Hello. How has Nolan been?”
“Um, no, sista. Spill it.”
I let out a breath of pure joy. “It’s really been a great day.”
“Yeah? Tell me more.”
I pull out of the parking space and follow him out of the lot. “We’ve spent the entire day together and bought a ton of stuff.”
“And …” she says, getting impatient with me.
“And … he’s really cool.”
“There it is! So, you like him?”
“I barely know him.”
“Yeah, but it’s going well so far. How did you end it?”
“We haven’t. Any chance you can keep Nolan while I go back to his place to help him put everything away?”
Her squeal makes me laugh out loud.
“So, that’s a yes?”
“That’s a go get you some hell yes!”
“Sasha!” I admonish. “I’m going to help him put things away, not sleep with the guy.”
“Not sleep with him yet . I just want to be clear, if things happen to go that way, I will not slut-shame you, and I will high-five you all the way.”
I shake my head, not surprised she’d say that. “Well, I’m glad I have your approval, but I’d like to get to know the guy a little more before I hop in bed with him.”
“Hey, to each their own. It’s been … what, seven years since?—”
“You can stop right there. I know where you’re going with this.”
“Just sayin’ …”
“Okay, well, I’m hanging up now before we talk about my nonexistent sex life anymore.”
“Go have fun,” she singsongs.
“I will, but not in that way …” I mimic her tone, then hang up and turn on the music to get the ideas she’s put in my head to go away.
Yes, it’s been years since I’ve been with someone.
But, no, I won’t let that sway my judgment as to whether I sleep with this guy on the first date.