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There’s sadness in her eyes. I want to ask her more, but I don’t want to impose. She’ll tell me her story if and when she’s ready.
“I already know it’s going to kill me when we walk away from this. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I already look forward to our time together.”
“I guess you have to ask yourself if the risk is worth the pain?” The door chimes, alerting us to a customer. Too bad Ryder didn’t use the front door. She stands and gives me a quick hug before going to help whoever just walked into the store.
All of this talk about Merrick has him on my mind. Who am I kidding? Lately, he’s all I’ve been thinking about. Grabbing my phone, I send him a text. It might not be me fighting for him, but it is me putting myself out there, letting him know that I’m thinking about him.
Me: Hope you’re having a great day.
His reply comes instantly.
Merrick: Better now. There are lots of long hours this week, trying to get ahead of the rain they're forecasting next week.
Me: Is there anything I can do to help?
Merrick: You just did.
He follows that up with a row of winking emoji.
Ryder and Jordyn have given me a lot to think about. I know the majority of my insecurities come from me being a people pleaser. I’m always putting others above myself. I know this about me. I just don’t know how to stop. It’s who I am.
The door chimes again, so I slide my phone back into my pocket and get back to work.
It’s Friday and the boutique just closed. I have no plans for tonight. Merrick’s working late again. He has every night this week. I could call Chloe and see if she wants to grab dinner, but then an idea pops into my head. I know Merrick’s been exhausted. I can hear it in his voice when we talk.
And yes, we’ve talked. He calls me every night after work. One night, it was on his way home. One was right before he went to bed, and the others were as he was hitting a drive-thru for dinner. That’s where my idea stems from.
I’m going to make him dinner.
Instead of going home, I turn my car into the grocery store parking lot. I know from our conversations he’ll eat just about anything. I decide to make buffalo chicken pasta and garlic bread. I pick up a few things that I need for home and circle back around to the cereal aisle. He liked the Rice Krispies treats I made for dinner with his family, so I’ll make him some more of those. I don’t know if this counts as fighting, but I’m putting myself out there. I’m going to show up at his place uninvited. I don’t have to stay to eat with him, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t hope he’ll ask me to stay.
Rushing home, I get to work making dinner. It’s not a lengthy process for the pasta, so I start with the Rice Krispies treats first. They, too, don’t take long, but they can be cooling while I start dinner.
An hour later, I have everything packed up. I’ve changed my clothes, and my car is loaded as I make my way toward his house. I don’t know if he’s home yet, but that’s okay. It’s a nice night for the second week of May. I have a blanket in my car for emergencies if it gets too cold, but I think I’ll be just fine reading my Kindle on his front porch until he gets home. I have a hot bartender that needs some of my attention. That is, at least until Merrick gets home.
It’s a few minutes before seven when I pull into his driveway. Grabbing my purse, which holds my phone and Kindle, I climb out of my car and move to the front porch. I settle on the swing and get lost in my book. When I hear tires on the gravel, I look up and see Merrick pulling into the driveway. Turning off my Kindle, I shove it back into my purse, before making my way to my car where I pull open the back door.
“Hey, you. This is a nice surprise,” Merrick says. He’s smiling widely, as if he’s happy to see me.
“I know you’ve been working long hours this week, and you’ve been eating out, so I thought I’d make you dinner.”
“You made me dinner?” There is surprise in his tone.
“I felt sorry for you,” I tease.
“I’ll take it.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “That means you were thinking about me. A man can’t complain about that,” he says, smirking. “Let me take that.”
I hand him the buffalo chicken pasta, grab the container of Rice Krispies treats and the garlic bread, and follow him inside.
“This smells great, Court. Thank you,” he says, placing the dish on the stove. “I stink. Let me shower and we can eat.”
“Oh, I don’t have to stay.”
“Babe, you made me dinner. You’re staying. Besides, I haven’t seen you all week. I’ll be quick.” He disappears down the hall.
I stand in his kitchen with a swarm of butterflies in my belly and a smile on my face because he wants me to stay. Shaking out of my Merrick fog, I preheat the oven and dig around until I find a cookie sheet to place the garlic bread on. Once that’s in the oven, I work on dishing us both a plate of pasta and putting them in the microwave to warm them up.
By the time a shirtless Merrick is back in the kitchen, in a pair of sweatpants and bare feet, I have two places set at the kitchen island.
