Third Date (17 page)

“That doesn’t even make sense, but whatever.” Kayla goes back to her workstation. “Who am I to question the love witch?”

Paige sighs. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a love witch. I’m just in tune with my feelings.”

“Oh, I forgot to show you guys this picture from the conference.” I pull the photo up on my phone and show Paige. “This is the guy I hung out with in Boston.”

She takes a closer look at the photo. “He’s in a gorilla suit.”

“It’s to go with new banana oatmeal they were handing out. He lost a bet with his coworkers and they made him wear the costume.”

Kayla walks over to check it out. “Hmm. Maybe he’s
not
gay. I don’t think a gay guy would wear that costume.”

“He’s not gay!” I yell at her. “And neither is Grant.”

“It’s a cute picture,” Paige says. “You should use it as your screensaver.”

“I don’t think Grant would want some photo of another guy on my computer.”

“He’s in a gorilla suit. Grant’s not going to know who he is. Besides, you’ll never see that guy again.”

“That’s true.” I feel sad hearing her say it. “So what did you guys do last weekend?”

“Paige hung out with her in-laws,” Kayla says. “Boring.”

“And Kayla went on a date with Chase, the numbers guy.” Paige smiles at Kayla.

“It was not a date,” she insists. “It was a work meeting. Morgan, while you were gone, HR came up with another one of their brilliant programs. They want to improve communication between departments and instead of doing their job and figuring that out for themselves, they’re making me do it for them. Well, Chase and me, and some other people. We have to work in teams. I got picked to represent our department and Chase got picked for Finance. We met on Saturday to talk about it. That’s it. It wasn’t a date.”

“They went out for dinner and drinks,” Paige says. “She won’t tell me what happened after that.”

“It doesn’t sound like a work meeting,” I say.

Kayla blushes, which she never does, except lately she keeps doing it whenever the topic of Chase comes up. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s all it was. I told you guys. Chase isn’t my type. I go for musicians, not number-crunchers.”

Paige and I look at each other and smile.
 

***

The rest of the week I only see Grant during lunch because I spend the evenings helping my dad pack up the house. I still haven’t accepted the fact that it’ll belong to someone else in a week and I won’t be able to go over there anymore.
 

Every night on the way to my dad’s place, I drive by Brad’s house. Tonight, I see a light on inside and decide to stop in and say hi to his mom. It’s completely unlike me to do something like this. I don’t even know this woman, but my dad does so I figure it’s not that strange. And I do know her son.

“Hi, Mrs. Fletcher,” I say when she opens the door. “I’m Morgan Lippincott. Ed’s daughter.”
 

“Yes, hello, Morgan, I haven’t seen you in years. And please, call me Lois.” She’s only 60 but she looks a lot older that that. She’s all hunched over and her hair is all white. “How’s your father doing?”
 

“He’s great. He’s getting married in March.”

“That’s wonderful. Come inside. It’s freezing out there.” She waves me inside and I notice her hands are knotted up from her arthritis.

The house is small but welcoming. A quilt hangs on the wall in front of me and there’s a basket of knitted blankets next to the couch. There’s a piano in the corner and on top of it are photos of Brad when he was younger, including one of him in his high school football uniform. That’s the Brad I remember. The popular football star. A couple other photos show him and his dad fishing. Brad looks just like his dad.

“Can I get you something?” she asks. “I could make some coffee or tea.”

“No, that’s okay.”
 

She takes a seat in one of the upholsters chairs. I sit across from her on the couch. The TV is on, but she turns it off.
 

“So what brings you by, Morgan? I don’t think you’ve ever been here before.”

“I saw Brad last week at a conference in Boston and he mentioned you so I thought I’d stop by and say hi. I drive by here almost every day on the way to my dad’s house. He’s moving next week and I’m helping him pack.”

“Yes, Brad told me he saw you in Boston. You probably thought you’d never see him again after high school. I know you two weren’t close friends, but he sure had a crush on you back then.” She winks.

I smile. “Yeah, he mentioned that. I thought he was kidding.”

“He always liked you, Morgan. He was just too afraid to tell you. You know how teen boys are. They’re too shy and embarrassed to go up to the girls they really like.”

I nod, not sure what to say. I still can’t believe he used to have a crush on me.

“So you said your father is getting married?” she asks.

“He’s marrying Sophie Chambers. She’s a real estate agent. You’ve probably seen her signs around.”

“Yes, I see her signs all over town.”

“She and my dad are moving to Texas. Dad’s retired but she’s going to set up her business down there. They’re both really excited about it.”

“And Brad said you have a job downtown?”

“Yes. I’m a food scientist for a small company.” I wonder how much Brad told his mom about me. She seems to know a lot. “When does Brad start his new job?”

“In a few weeks. He went to Portland last weekend to look for apartments but he didn’t find one he liked. He said he’ll go out a few days before the job starts and look again.”

“Is he coming to see you before he leaves?” I’m hoping she’ll say yes, which concerns me because I’m dating Grant and shouldn’t even be thinking about Brad.

“He’s so busy right now that I told him not to, but I’m sure he will. He worries about me even though I assure him I’m fine. I
will
miss him though.” She smiles and smooths the pillow that’s on her lap. “He always fixes things for me around the house but now that he’s moving I’ll have to hire a handyman.”

“I can’t fix anything, but if you need help with anything else, let me know. My apartment is only about 15 minutes from here.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to trouble you like that.”

“It’s no trouble. Really. I’ll give you my number.” I take a business card from my purse and write my cell number on the back. As I give it to her I realize she might pass my number to Brad. But I doubt he’d call me after the way I left things. “I should go. My dad’s going to wonder what’s taking me so long.”

“Thank you for stopping by. I don’t get many visitors, so this was nice. I’ll tell Brad you stopped by. Say hi to your father for me. And tell him congratulations.”

“I will.” On my way out I spot a recent photo of Brad. Sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, warm smile. I want to steal the photo and take it home, but of course I don’t.
 

His mom starts to close the door but I stop her. “Hey, um, would you mind giving me Brad’s phone number?”

She smiles as if my request means something. “Of course, dear. I’ll be right back.” She disappears down a hallway.

Why did I just ask for his number? Now she’ll tell Brad. And it’s not like I actually plan to call him. I don’t know what I was thinking.

 
Brad’s mom comes back and hands me a piece of paper with the number written on it.
 

“Thank you.” I stuff the piece of paper in my purse. “And be sure to call me if you need anything.”

I leave and head to my dad’s house.

He’s waiting for me. “What took you so long?”

“I stopped by Mrs. Fletcher’s house. She says to tell you hi and congratulations.”

“Why did you stop over there?” He raises his eyebrows. “Is Brad home visiting?”

“No. I was just checking in on his mom. Brad said she might need help with some things so I gave her my phone number.”

“I see.” He grins. “Well, it was nice of you to offer.” Thankfully, he leaves it at that and doesn’t question my motives any further. “Now can we get to work on the basement? It’s a mess down there.”

“Sure, Dad.” As we pack stuff up, I realize how much I’m going to miss my dad. It’ll be so strange not having him here anymore.
 

***
 

Friday night, Grant and I are finally able to go out. As promised, I take him to the diner I love in Saint Paul. Maxine’s Diner. It’s filled with artsy types, but not Grant’s version of artsy types. It’s the type with nose rings and tattoos, not high-fashion dresses and diamonds.
 

“It’s an interesting place.” As Grant says it, a guy walks by our table wearing a kilt, combat boots, and a black leather jacket.
 

“I don’t come here for the atmosphere. I come here for the burgers and fries, which are the absolute best.”

He flips through the menu. “Have you had the turkey burger? Or the veggie burger?”

“No, I just get the regular burger. You should get the cheeseburger. It’s really good.”

“I don’t eat much red meat. My family has a history of high cholesterol. I stay away from eggs, too. Whole eggs, not the whites. I make a great egg white, spinach, and feta omelet. I’ll make you one sometime.”

I don’t tell him, but I’m not an egg white girl. I like the whole egg. I’ve never had a problem with my weight, so I pretty much eat whatever I want. I’m sure that will change when I’m older, but for now I don’t worry about it.
 

“You should try a milkshake. They’re famous for their milkshakes.”

“I think I’ll just get the turkey burger and sweet potato fries. How about you?”

“Burger, fries, and a milkshake. My usual.” I feel like a total pig now. No wonder Grant’s so thin. He eats less than I do.

Fifties music plays in the background and Grant keeps looking up at the speakers like he wishes they’d stop spitting out Elvis songs.

I start laughing. “You hate this place, don’t you?”

He looks around at the funky decor and people. “It’s fine. It has character.”

“Hey, I went to that sushi place. You owe me.”

He smiles and reaches over to hold my hand. “I never would’ve suggested it if you’d told me you hated sushi. So what movie did you pick for tonight?”

“Madison Place. It’s that new comedy. It’s supposed to be really funny. But we can see something else if you want.”

“I told you it’s your choice. If you want to see Madison Place, that’s what we’ll see. Next time it’ll be my choice and I’ve already got the movie picked.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a new French film that just came out. It’s a documentary about the history of champagne.”

“Really?” I scrunch up my face. “Does it have subtitles?”

“Yeah, and it’s three hours long.”

“Um, okay. I’m sure it’ll be very interesting.” I try to show some enthusiasm but I’m already dreading having to watch it.

He laughs. “I’m kidding. That’s not even a real movie. I just made it up.”

I’m so relieved. He’s a great actor. He really had me believing it was an actual film.

Our food arrives, served in red plastic baskets lined with parchment paper.
 

“Do you want to try my milkshake?” I take my spoon and scoop up the chocolatey mixture. It’s so thick you can’t drink it from a straw.

Grant takes a spoonful. “It’s good.” He takes another spoonful.
 

“Let’s split it. I’ll get another glass.”
 

I finally found something we both like. I knew I would. I get a glass from the waitress and pour some of my milkshake in it.

We finish dinner and head to the movie. Afterward, we go to Grant’s apartment. He pours us some wine and we take our glasses over to the couch. He doesn’t bother with the music this time.
 

“Did I do a better job with our date tonight?” he kids.

“Grant, it’s not like I had a horrible time last weekend. I appreciate that you planned all that stuff. I was just tired from the conference. It took me days to recover.”

“Well, I hope you’re not tired now, because the night’s not over and I don’t want you to leave.” He sets my wine down and starts kissing me. Like really kissing me and it takes me by surprise.
 

Soon we’re lying on the couch and his hand is working its way under my shirt, unhooking my bra. Shit! Are we having sex? Tonight? I’m not ready. I didn’t expect this at all. Where were the signs? Did I somehow miss them? We had burgers and went to a movie. He held my hand in the movie, but who goes from hand-holding to sex?
 

I try to relax as his hand moves over my breast and we continue to kiss. I like what he’s doing and I want him to continue, but I’m too worried about whatever’s coming next. If we could just stay where we’re at the rest of the night, I’d be fine. But we’re not teenagers which means hanging out at second base isn’t an option.
 

I sit up. “I should probably go. I have to get up early tomorrow to help my dad.” There’s nothing like mentioning your dad to kill the mood.

He moves off me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking that it’s getting late.”

“It’s only 11.”

“I know, but I told my dad I’d be over there at 8.” I reach behind my back and hook my bra, then adjust my shirt. I start to stand up but he holds my arm.

“Morgan, if I did something you didn’t like, or aren’t comfortable doing, just tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that. I just need to get up early. That’s all.”

“Let me grab your coat and we’ll go.”

When we get to my place, he walks me to the door. “Are you still okay with us staying in tomorrow night? Because if you’d rather go out, I’m sure I could get us reservations somewhere.”

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and Grant offered to make me dinner. He was going to make a gourmet meal with oysters and prime rib and some kind of fancy potatoes. It would’ve taken him all day to prepare and I didn’t want him doing all that work. Besides I’d rather have a simpler meal. So we decided on homemade pizza instead.

“I still want to stay in,” I tell him. “I’m looking forward to this pizza you’re making.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at 7.”