Page 14 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)
Morgan
I feel like a kid on Christmas morning as we make our way to Salt Lake. I know it’s technically a fake date since we’re just trying to get her mom off her back. I’m going to treat this as a real date though and use this as an opportunity to show her how she deserves to be treated.
Even though this is fake, my nerves and excitement are real. How could I not be nervous when the girl of my dreams is sitting in my passenger seat looking like a vision?
It was an impulsive decision to kiss her cheek when I saw her, and my lips are still tingling from the brief contact. Then, when I grabbed her hand, I half expected fucking sparkles or some magical glow when ours fingers interlocked. Why? Because it felt like pure magic holding her hand.
I can’t even imagine what would happen if we kissed.
It would probably feel like taking a bite of your favorite dessert.
Decadent, delicious, and impossible to stop after one.
Making love to her would feel like a baptism, a cleansing of my soul that would erase every other person I’ve touched until it’s only her.
Of course, that won’t be happening—at least not anytime soon—but a guy can dream.
Hannah brings me back to reality with a gentle, “Where are you taking me?”
“Have you ever been to Fondue Frenzy?”
“Oooh. No! That’s the place where you get a big pot of cheese, right?” Her excitement is contagious. I’m glad I chose this place.
I chuckle. “Among other things. They have a whole three course meal experience we’ll be enjoying tonight.”
Hannah does a little happy dance then sighs.
“Ugh, I love cheese. Liam, my ex, never wanted to venture out and try new places. He was content with fast food joints or the three other restaurants we frequented.” I glance over and notice she’s frowning.
“Now that I think about it, he never really took me out the last three years of our marriage. I think he was embarrassed by me.”
My fingers tighten on the gearshift, and my jaw clenches.
I cannot fathom how anyone would be embarrassed by this woman.
“That’s so boring. I can’t imagine not trying new places.
I love the places I love, but sometimes you just have to try something new.
” And then, because I apparently like upsetting myself, I ask, “Why would he be embarrassed of you?”
“Because I gained a lot of weight after…” she trails off, like she doesn’t want to finish the thought. Damn, I’m so curious, but I won’t force her. She clears her throat. “After some medical issues, he didn’t like that my body wasn’t the same as when I was eighteen.”
Well, fuck him all the way to hell. “That’s awful, Han. I’m so sorry. You deserve much better than that.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I like that you’re calling me Han. I’ve never had a nickname. Well, other than ‘babe.’”
“‘Babe’ is so unoriginal. My nicknames for significant others are never that boring.”
“What would you call me if we were, you know, actually dating?” she questions.
I pause like I’m thinking really hard, but the truth is I already know. I’ve been calling her “Butterfly” in my head since the flower shop. Then there’s the obvious “my love.” But it’s a bit soon for that.
“‘Butterfly’ or ‘sunflower,’” I finally say, grateful we’re almost to the restaurant so I can turn and see her reaction.
“Why those?”
“Butterflies are hard to catch, delicate, and absolutely stunning. I thought of the nickname when you left the shop because it felt like you slipped right through my fingers. Sunflowers are a symbol for resilience and can grow in adverse conditions. You’ve gone through a lot of shit and are still bright and beautiful. ”
I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant and turn in time to catch the flush from her cheeks work its way down her neck and disappear beneath the modest neckline of her shirt. I’m dying to know if it goes all the way to her chest.
“Those are very nice nicknames. I don’t have one for you, though,” Hannah finally says.
I grin. “That’s okay, Han. You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Now come on, let’s go get some cheese.”
I round the car and open her door before she can respond. I don’t hold her hand this time, even though I want to. There’s no reason we have to pretend to be dating here. We’re just two pals hanging out, eating cheese.
We’re halfway to the door when Hannah stops in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” I’m immediately looking around for any signs of danger and follow her gaze to a yellow Dodge Charger.
“That’s Liam’s car.”
“It could be someone else’s?” I suggest, but she would know better than I do.
She shakes her head, her hair flying around her face. “I know it’s his because of the stupid vanity plate I begged him not to get.”
I glance down at the license plate that says “HEISRZN” and frown. “What does it mean?”
“‘He is risen.’ Like, Jesus is risen. I told him it was douchey because it’s a double entendre, but he just waggled his eyebrows and said, ‘Yeah it is.’” She pitches her voice lower to mimic his and then cringes.
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. “Of course he would say that. What would you like to do? Would you like to go somewhere else?”
She squares her shoulders. “No. I’m not letting him ruin this like he’s ruined so many other things. I just hope you’re prepared to act like a doting boyfriend on the off chance we run into him.”
She has no fucking idea how ready I am. “Then let’s go, Butterfly.” The nickname just slips out, but I don’t take it back or apologize. I hold my hand out for her, ready for her to decline. To my utter delight, she clasps my fingers in hers, and we walk into the restaurant.
Once we’re inside, she glances around, but the lighting is low, and most of the booths are arranged in a semi-circle, giving the illusion of complete privacy for a romantic, intimate dining experience.
“Welcome to Fondue Frenzy. Do you have a reservation?” The woman at the front is dressed in a black button up and black slacks, and her name tag reads “Shondra.”
“Yes, two for Fowler,” I respond, giving Hannah’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Ah yes, Mr. Fowler. Let me show you to your table.” She grabs two menus and leads us around the hostess stand to the main dining area, where most of the booths are filled with couples out on their own dates.
We’re led to a booth by a window that looks out onto the bustling streets of Salt Lake City. I allow Hannah to slide in first, and I follow, leaving a friendly amount of space between us.
Shondra lays the menus down. “Your server, Katie, will be with you momentarily to grab your drink orders.” She then scurries off back to do her job.
I pick up the menu and look at the drinks. “Their cocktails are amazing. Oh, wait, do you drink? I won’t drink if you don’t want to.”
Hannah shrugs. “I’m not technically supposed to drink, but I have before. I think tonight is a good excuse to let loose a little bit. Which cocktail do you suggest?”
I already know which one I would suggest. “Love Potion. I personally really enjoy their French Kiss cocktail, but for someone who hasn’t had a lot of alcohol, Love Potion would be good.”
Hannah giggles, and it makes my heart threaten to burst. “Why are they all so sensual? I mean, Love Potion? French Kiss? Cupid’s Cup? Part-Time Lover? Hanky Panky? I’m surprised there’s no Sex on the Beach on the menu.”
“There’s a bar over on thirteenth that has a whole slew of dirty cocktails and shots. If raunchy, sexual alcoholic beverages are your thing, I’m more than happy to take you.”
“I have always wanted to try a Wet Pussy shot. See what the hype is about,” she says just as the waitress comes over.
Thank God because hearing the word “pussy” come out of Hannah’s mouth makes me think of other scenarios she could say it in. We order our drinks—a French Kiss for me and a Love Potion for her—and Hannah lets me order the meal, keeping in mind she doesn't like fish.
Katie writes it all down and promises our first course of cheese fondue will be out soon, then as she turns to walk away, she runs right into another patron.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” Katie says.
“Maybe just watch where you’re going next time,” the man snaps, and I watch Hannah stiffen at his voice.
I think she’s upset he’s being rude to Katie for no reason until her eyes meet mine, and she mouths, “ That’s Liam.”
Then I hear a familiar voice say, “Come on, Liam. I want to get back to your place.”
My head snaps towards the voice, and when Katie finally escapes, I say, “Whitney?”