Seven (11 page)

Maybe not tonight darlin’ but soon, when the time is right, you’ll shout that word for me.

Chapter 14

Savannah

I’ve been ready for an hour. I don’t know why I let him talk me into this, but I couldn’t sleep a wink last night knowing today was coming. I haven’t been out with anyone of the opposite sex since Shawn, and even though our marriage was spectacular, the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling had dissipated over time. I imagine that’s pretty normal in any long-term marriage, but now, I have to do this all over again. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach all night. No, not butterflies, moths! Big, ugly, obviously nocturnal moths since they wouldn’t go away, and so here I am ready to go way early because…moths.

I see his truck pull into a spot out front but try not to pull the curtain back too much to watch him in case he looks up to my window. I may be anxious about today but I certainly will not be letting him know that. I get to hold the cards today. The moments we shared last week in my apartment were intense, and I never meant for any of it to happen, but it’s been a week. Who knows what he may be thinking now. Maybe he’s the super great guy that he was here last week or maybe as I get to know him he’ll show truer colors and I’ll see the old Bryant Wood emerge, the douchebag looking for a booty call. He’ll be dialing long distance if that’s the case.

Except I almost kissed him a week ago.

I would’ve kissed him back had he followed through.

Will that opportunity come today?

Do I want it to?

As Bryant emerges from his black truck, I watch as he takes a big breath and looks at himself in the driver’s side mirror to make sure he looks okay. It’s cute to watch a guy care about the impression he’s making. He only looks for a second though, so at least I know he’s not too vain.

He’s perfect.

He knocks on the door three times and even though I knew he was on his way up, I still jump at the sound of the knock. I take a step toward the door and then cringe and slap my hand to my forehead.

Stupid girl! Don’t be in such a hurry.

Make him wait!

You’re not desperate.

So that my voice doesn’t come across too clearly I tiptoe as quietly as I can back down the hallway toward my bedroom.

“Coming!” I shout.

One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand…

I take one last look in the bathroom mirror even though I know I look fine. I’ve looked at myself every ten minutes for the past hour. I chose my favorite skinny jeans that are faded, with a few small holes in spots, a pink, blue, purple and yellow plaid button down shirt unbuttoned halfway, layered over a pink tank. Not knowing where we are going today except that I was told to dress casually, I left my layered hair down. I like the way it frames my face but still hangs past my shoulders. I throw a ponytail holder in my pocket just in case I need it later. I’m ready to go. I’m ready to answer the door.

Calmly and quietly I open the door and cast my eyes on Bryant standing in the doorway.

Holy hell.

Looking at him standing in front of me makes me feel like I’m about to fan-girl on the red carpet of some cheesy awards show. He looks like he could be the fourth brother in the family if Ryan Gosling, Bradley Cooper, and Chris Hemsworth were all related. He has the eyes of one, the body of another, and the shit eating smirk of another. He’s dressed perfectly casual in worn denim jeans, a blue t-shirt, with a blue plaid shirt over top. One might think we coordinated outfits. It’s almost ironic how well we complement each other. I remember what he looked like the morning he stood shirtless in my kitchen. Though his shirt sleeves are slightly rolled I can still see his strong arms. They definitely look bigger today even under his clothes...I wonder if he worked out just before coming over.

To impress me?

That thought makes me almost giggle out loud.

“Good morning Seven,” he says with a smirk as if he knows I’m thinking about him naked, which I’m not…okay I might have for just a second, but I absolutely am not now.

I nod my head up to make notice of his face. “You left somethin’ on your face there, Bryant.”

“You like it?” He says rubbing his hand over the stubble on his face.

YES!

Nodding slightly, I respond, “It’s not bad. It suits you.”

“Good. Ivy likes it. She says I have sprinkles on my face and it just so happens that I like sprinkles so I figured what the hell.”

“Sprinkles. That’s cute.” I can’t help but smile at the thought of a little girl telling Bryant he has sprinkles on his face.

“You look great, Seven. Not having the plague suits
you.”
He winks at me and I smile back, shaking my head.

“Thanks, I think.”

“You ready to go? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head slowly. “Don’t think so. I’m good.” I check to make sure my phone is in my back pocket, grab my small purse and keys off the hook by the door and step out into the hallway.

“Great. Let’s go. It’ll take us a little while to get there.” Bryant watches while I lock the door behind me and then guides me to the stairwell with just the slightest touch of his hand on the small of my back. It’s weird, but not uncomfortable. Uncomfortable should have been Bryant almost kissing me a week ago in my apartment, but that felt…eerily not uncomfortable.

“Where are we going?”

Bryant turns his head once we’ve reached the ground floor and shrugs. “You’ll see. Hop in.” He holds the door open for me and waits as I grab what I call the ‘Oh Shit’ bar above the door in his truck and hoist myself in. These pickup trucks sit so high up. A trampoline would be a much more fun way to get in.

Within minutes of our drive I see that we’re headed east on I-150. Obviously we’re not going somewhere local, which now has me stumped. Where on earth could he be taking me?

“Are we headed to Springfield?” I ask.

“Well, we’re gonna pass through Springfield eventually, but that’s not where I’m stopping.” He looks over at me through his sunglasses and sees the perplexed look on my face. “Relax, Seven. We’ll be driving for about an hour, but I promise you’ll like it…well…” He turns on his signal to change lanes before looking in his rearview mirror. “At least I hope you’ll like it. I just thought somewhere peaceful and quiet might be nice and it’s supposed to be a beautiful day.”

An hour?

“Sounds great.” I smile shyly…because at this moment I actually am a little apprehensive. It’ll be a long shitty car ride home if today doesn’t go well. I don’t want this hour to be awkward; it would be nice if I could find something to talk about so we don’t sit in silence for the entire ride. I don’t really want to know about all the women Bryant has dated and I don’t particularly want to talk about my dead husband when I’m supposedly on a date with another guy. Ugh! Why is this so hard?

“Hey,” Bryant’s voice causes me to turn my head in his direction. He’s looking back and forth between me and the road.

“Yeah?”

“Where did you go just now?”

“What do you mean?”

He smiles at me. “I mean you haven’t stopped twiddling your thumbs since you got in the car, you look tense and if that doesn’t give you away, I just watched you exhale rather largely looking out your window. Are you okay? Do you not want to do this?”

“No, no! Yeah, I do. I’m sorry. I…haven’t been on…a…umm…”

“A date?” he asks. I’m grateful that he’s saying it so I don’t have to. Why does this make me so nervous all of a sudden? I wasn’t like this a week ago.

Maybe because I actually care?

“Yeah, a date. I haven’t done this in a while, Bryant. I’m just being stupid. I’m sorry.” I shake out my hands quickly to try to brush off the nerves. “Just make me talk so I don’t sit here wondering what to say or what not to say.”

Bryant tries not to smile or laugh at me but I notice his small chuckles and see his cheeks rise under his sunglasses. “Okay, umm…well, tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Dude, that could be a lot of things. You don’t know much about me at all…but then again, it sort of feels like you know everything.” I answer quietly.

“I know you like to lay on the couch and watch silly television shows about girls trying on wedding dresses, and I know you like oatmeal.”

I shake my head in partial embarrassment over his reference to
Say Yes to the Dress
. I suppose it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been watching old reruns of
Full House
.

Have mercy.

“I know that your bathroom is blue and white, which I liked very much by the way…not too girly, but not too plain. You can tell a lot about people by looking at their bathrooms.”

“Yeah? So you were snooping through my bathroom? Hope you got a good look at my hairbrushes and tampons.”

Bryant lets out a loud laugh. “Tampons? No, but I did assume that you’re not someone who takes forever to get ready for something…you don’t have enough products on your counter to justify the time.”

Wow. Perceptive
.

“Ten points for you, Bryant. You would be correct with that assessment.”

“Want to know one other thing I know about you?” he proudly asks.

“You don’t have to say it.”

My husband is dead.

My daughter is dead.

I’m alone.

“You’re cute when you sleep.”

“WHAT? What the fuck? You watched me sleep?” I shout. “Oh my God, are you a creeper or what? How long did you watch me?”

“Only for a few minutes, Savannah. You were so peaceful.”

“Oh shit, did I snore?” I ask. “Because if I did, it has to be because I was sick, you know.”

Ugh, how embarrassing.

Laughing at my outburst he replies, “Relax okay? I watched you sleeping hard enough to know you deserved to sleep in your bed for the night and not on a couch. That’s when I carried you back to your room, remember?”

“Oh…yeah.” I breathe. “I remember now.”

I felt comfortable in his arms.

“Anyway, you’re beautiful when you’re awake and every bit as beautiful when you’re asleep too.

“Oh, God! That can’t be true.” I scoff lightly. “I probably looked like Medusa on steroids or something.”

“Nah, nothing like that. You look…peaceful. Content. Beautiful…” He trails off.

I look down for a moment sliding part of my hair behind my ear so it’s out of my face. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now answer my question and tell me something I
don’t
know.”

Without thinking I just blurt out, “Ranch flavored Doritos are my favorite. I can’t ever eat just one. Your turn.”

Bryant nods in appreciation of my answer, however random it was. We’ll see if two can play at this game.

“I don’t like the sound of Saran Wrap when it crinkles together,” he says with a disgusted look that makes me laugh.

Yes, two can play at this game!

I almost bust a gut laughing. “What? Does that even make sense? Is that a thing? That’s not a thing.”

He looks at me playfully insulted by my words. “It is most definitely a thing. You know how when it sticks together and you try to pull it apart it makes that gross sticky sound? Or what it feels like when you’re wearing it and it sticks to itself…ugh, no.”

I can’t stop laughing! “Bryant Wood, when have you ever worn plastic wrap in your life?”

“Quit your giggling. They wrapped my arm and shoulder in it when I got my tattoo, just to keep the bandage on. It was the most disgusting feeling ever and when it would rub together…” he pretends to shiver in disgust. “Ew. No. Never again. I hate the stuff. Your turn.”

I take a deep breath to compose myself and try to think of something interesting about me. “Okay, okay, I used to spit my lima beans into my milk and then pour them down the drain after dinner. I hate beans. All beans. The texture of them is disgrossting.”

Bryant cocks his head to the side. “Did you just say disgrossting?”

“Yeah…disgusting and gross…disgrossting.”

“Disgrossting…” he lets the word roll off his tongue and then nods. “I like it. You know what else is disgrossting?”

He’s using my words.

This is fun.

“What?” I ask.

“Mustard.”

“Mustard? Why the heck don’t you like mustard? Isn’t mustard like…one of the American staples of all condiments?”

He shrugs. “Maybe it is, but when your mom puts mustard on your grilled cheese sandwiches as a kid, and refuses to make you one without mustard simply because you don’t like mustard, which let me remind you would be one
less
step for her in making dinner…I just couldn’t ever learn to like the yellow smelly goop. It kinda looks like baby poop on bread anyway…disgrossting.”

This conversation makes me smile. I don’t know why I was so worried about talking to Bryant. Words just flow easily from both of us. It’s comfortable in that get-to-know-you sort of way. “Okay…mustard is disgrossting. I’ll give that to ya, but it’s still your turn since you just piggy-backed on my turn.”