On Saturday morning, I drop the kids at Christina's house at ten o'clock and then return to my place to get ready for my date. The weekend with Christopher officially starts in two hours. He had a family thing this morning, but that worked for me. We made great plans for today. Going through our schedule in my mind, I realize it seems more like a marathon tour of San Francisco than a date, but we have a very logical explanation. We want to show each other the parts we love most about our city. He and I agree that no two people look at a city and see the same. On Sunday, we'll stay in at his apartment for a lazy day. I'm delighted at the possibilities brought by an entire day indoors with him alone. Yes, Christopher definitely woke my feisty side, and I'm enjoying the hell out of it.
I'm halfway dressed when my phone rings, Christopher's name appearing on the screen.
"Thinking of the devil," I say instead of hello upon answering. "I was trying to decide what would drive you crazier. Option one is a deep V-neck sweater, so deep you could see my navel if I bend forward and you really focus. Option two is a regular sweater with a decent neckline that I can wear without a bra. Thoughts?"
"Jesus. Are you trying to kill me here?"
"No, I merely like it when you look at me as if I walk on water."
"I always look at you that way."
It's true. With just one look, this man has the uncanny ability to make me feel like I'm the most important person in the world for him. But teasing him is too much fun to let this go.
"Well, it tends to happen more often when I wear something provocative."
"I can't help but feel a little insulted."
"Please do. Can you keep feeling insulted until you pick me up? I love your ‘I have to prove something’ kisses the most."
"That is adding injury to insult."
"I think it’s the other way around."
"Possibly. Listen, I can't make it in time."
My stomach drops. "What happened?"
"This thing we’re building is more complicated than we thought. It’ll take another few hours."
"Who is we? What are you building?"
"My brothers Sebastian, Logan, Blake, and me. My parents wanted an outdoor gazebo in time for Thanksgiving, and Mom ordered one online. The thing arrived earlier. My parents are out of town, and I thought we’d surprise them by building it for them. I thought it would be a piece of cake." In the background, male voices are arguing. I almost laugh as I imagine the four brothers flexing their macho stre
ak, declaring it would be child's play to build the gazebo only to realize they were in over their heads. "I should be done by dinnertime. We'd need to skip the city tour, but I promise I'll make it up to you. Sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about," I assure him. "How about I come by and keep you company?"
"You'd do that?"
"Of course. My other options for today are staying home and reading, going for a run, or going out with Isabelle and our other girlfriends if any of them doesn't have plans already, which is a slim chance. That only leaves you," I tease.
"I feel really special right now." Sarcasm drips from his voice. "But seriously, it would be very boring for you."
"I assure you it won't. I want to spend the day with you."
"Ah yeah, me and my brothers."
"Perfect. I get to meet them too. That way I'll already know a few people next week." I didn't tell him this, but the prospect of meeting his entire family is giving me jitters. At least if I meet some of his brothers today, I'll have a head start. I'm good at one-on-one conversations or entertaining a small group, but working a crowd, not so much. I want his family's approval. I want them to like me.
"Should I bring some cookies? We have a ton left from this morning."
"Did Lucas sneak chili peppers in them again or something?"
"No, I just made too many."
"Sure. We can do with some sustenance. Write the address down."
Ten minutes later, I'm speeding along the highway, grinning like I'm going on some big adventure. I keep switching radio channels, finally settling on the only one that seems to play happy, upbeat songs. Drumming my fingers on the wheel to the rhythm, I start singing along, fully aware that I'm as off-key as I can be. But what the hell; there's no one here to hear or judge me. Some people like to sing in the shower, but my need to express my vocally creative side seems to only kick in while I'm in motion.