Page 80 of Until Then

I follow Derrick inside, feeling severely overdressed as my heels click-clack on the linoleum. We head straight back to the slushie machine, as usual, and Derrick fills the cups. He’s better at it than I am. He has an uncanny ability to perfectly swirl the mixture, whereas when I do it, it comes out in blobs.

I pop the straw through the hole in the dome-shaped lid and take a sip. “Perfection.” I hum.

Derrick follows me down the candy aisle, where I snag a bag of gummy bears and another of M&M’s, then swipe a pack of Reese’s for him.

The man who’s always behind the counter gives us an amused smile as we approach. I dig in my purse for my wallet, but Derrick has his card out and tapped to the pad before I can pull it out.

Side by side, we take our spoils out to the truck, Derrick making sure to get the door for me.

Instead of going straight home, he drives around Parkerville while we sip our slushies.

As nice as the restaurant was, this is my favorite part of our date—fingers tangled, a cool breeze, quiet country music floating on the air, and the sights of this beautiful town.

By the time we get back to the house, I’ve learned even more about Derrick.

Like how he broke his left arm playing baseball with his friends when he was in high school. How, when he was a kid, he dreamed of being a pilot.

I love earning each new piece of him, then hoarding it inside me like a precious treasure.

Derrick walks me to the front door, says a quiet good night, and kisses my cheek. Then he turns his key in the lock, pushes the door open, and saunters back to his truck to wait for me to go inside.

From the doorway, I watch his every move, filled with a mix of affection and humor and tenderness. His desire to make this date feel like a normal one, like I’m not currently living with him, is adorable.

I pick up Wonton and spin him around, pressing kisses to his head. “Wonton,” I gush. “I think I might be falling.”

Falling in lust.

Falling in like.

Falling in love.

Upstairs, I head to the bathroom to wash up for the night. The house is quiet as I change into my pajamas, though it’s possible I missed him.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like making a video. I have no intentions of posting it, but even so, I’m determined to do it. For me.

I set up my camera on the small desk in the corner, unconcerned about my lack of makeup or the messy knot of hair piled on top of my head. I adjust the mic, make sure everything is working, and then I talk.

Gush is more like it.

About Derrick.

About how he makes me feel.

My excitement to see where things might go.

At the end, I say, “If you’re watching this, then that means I marry him. It also means he’s your dad. I love you.” Like I finish all of my videos, I add, “Until then.”

With one hand over the lens, I shut off the camera, unable to wipe the stupidly giddy smile off my face. I might be getting ahead of myself—okay, I definitely am—but never before have I seen a future with a man. Not even the few I’ve dated long term.

With Derrick, I see every dream I’ve ever had.

Coffee in the mornings with the person I love.

Dancing in the kitchen.

Singing in the shower.

Making love slow and hushed, and fucking like we can’t get enough of each other.

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