Page 39 of Only You

The solemnity of Daniel’s voice struck me, and somehow, I just knew. “He’s not going home this week after all, is he?”

Daniel shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No.”

“Do you think he’ll…” How did I ask this without sounding morbid? “Will he ever get to go home?”

Daniel turned the stove off and strained the beans before dumping them into a bowl. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”

He came and scooted in beside me on the bench. Taking hold of my hands, he rubbed his thumb against the back of my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s been a long week for me.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” My heart skipped a beat.

“You look…” He smiled and let go of my hands to run his fingers through my frizzed-out hair. Tingles broke out down my spine. “Well, to be honest, you look kind of a mess.”

I huffed. “It’s humid outside. My hair won’t obey me when the weather’s like this.”

“It’s cute. I love it.” He blinked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m glad you didn’t take Minty’s advice about getting product.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s soft and never does what you want it to, and…” He leaned closer and took a deep breath. “It smells good.”

“Pert shampoo. Pricey stuff.”

He laughed and stood again, rubbing his neck. “Okay, let’s see. The pie’s done, I’ve got the…” He put up a finger. “And the…yeah.” A second finger. “Okay. The green beans are ready for Kennedy. I’ll let my mom know.” He nodded at the door down to the basement. “Wait here?”

I agreed.

Once he disappeared, I rose to snap a few pictures of the view. Moving over to the counter, I grabbed a shot of the finished pot pie, and then looked around the kitchen.

Daniel’s house was big, and not very homey in my opinion.

Daniel returned from downstairs. He looked grim when he first appeared, but his eyes lit up and then softened when he saw me. “That’s done. All we need to do is carry the pie up, and we’re done.”

“All right. How can I help?”

Daniel grinned. “Grab your bag, bring the flowers, open the door, and follow me.”

I held the door from the kitchen to the backyard, and Daniel balanced the pie on his oven-mitt-covered hands. Following him out and then up the stairs, I watched his bare feet climb the risers. Reaching the wide deck attached to the house’s second story, my heart exploded with hope at the sight that met me there.

Everywhere were beautiful plants and flowers, as well as a rose-covered pergola with white twinkle lights strung through the shadowy interior. Cozy wicker porch chairs sat alongside a bar that seemed to be stocked with seltzer, ice, and some different soft drinks. In the center of the deck was a big picnic table dressed up with a black tablecloth and candles—not lit yet, but long-stemmed matches stood next to them ready to do the honors.

“What do you think? It’s all for you.” Daniel placed the pot pie on the table and took his mitts off. “Do you like it?”

I blinked again. “This can’t be for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…you didn’t…I mean…” I trailed off, not sure how to express what I wanted to say. Finally, I spat out, “Because this isn’t a date.”

“It can be, if you want.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “It’s up to you.”

“I…”

Daniel’s voice went tense with nerves. “Wait, let me explain first. So, um, I arranged the table, and put up the twinkle lights in the pergola, and set out the candles. I know it’s maybe silly to have them when the sun doesn’t set until later, but I thought it’d be nice anyway. The plants were already here. My mom almost killed them all with neglect during her relapse, but Paul, Kennedy, and I have managed to save them. But the rest…I did this. For tonight. Because, despite everything, I’d like this to be a date, Peter. If that’s all right with you?”

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