Page 47 of For the Win

“I do now.We’ve been working on trying get this mess figured out.Funny, yesterday, at my parents’ place when they gave us the news, we never talked about that.But Mark and Matthew need to know too—heistheir dad.”

We arrive back at the street where we crossed Ocean.I stop to brush sand off my feet and put my shoes back on.He offers me an arm to steady myself.

Mother of cake.Ireallylike this man.

“How did you get here?”he asks.“Can I drive you home?”

I don’t answer while I think about this and we walk toward Ocean Avenue.I really like him.He seems like a good guy.But I don’t trust my instincts anymore.“I’d rather not.I took an Uber here.I’ll take one home.”I pull out my phone.

“That’s crazy,” he says.“That could be dangerous.”

“I’m careful.”Although he’s right, I also know the danger of giving out my address to someone I don’t really know that well.I bring up the app.

“Seriously, just let me drive you.It’s no trouble.”

Pushing doesn’t make me feel any better.“Please.This is what I prefer.”

He goes silent and when I glance at him, he looks...hurt.“Okay,” he says slowly.“I get it.”

He doesn’t get it.At least, I don’t think he does.

A car will be here in a few minutes.Perfect.We stop at the corner.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say.“It was amazing, with all the different wines.And thanks for opening up about what’s going on with you.”

“Thanks for listening.”

We stand on the street corner shadowed by a big tree as traffic passes by.Neither of us says anything else as our eyes meet.He moves a little closer.I want him to kiss me.

A car pulls up at the curb.It’s my Uber.

I smile.“Gotta go.Thank you again.”Since he hasn’t made a move, I do, going on my toes to brush my lips over his.

I check out the car, slide into the back seat and have the driver say my name, then wave at Harrison as we pull away.

I lean my head against the side window.I should have let him drive me home.

No.He may have been hurt that I didn’t trust him, but my safety is more important than his hurt feelings.I can’t get sucked into stupid decisions by worrying about how others feel or what they think of me.

Except I’ll probably never hear from him again because of it, and damn, I like him.I like him a lot.

I dig through my purse and find my phone.Might as well deal with it now.

I type in a message to Harrison.

Thanks again for a really nice evening.I had fun.

He doesn’t reply.After a few minutes, I tuck my phone away and sigh, staring at the city lights flashing by outside the car.

At home, Taj is there, watchingDisasters at Seaon TV.

“Hey,” he says, looking up.“How’d your date go?”

“Well.”I drop my purse, then hear my phone buzz.“It was good.Until the end.”

I pull out my phone.Now Harrison has replied.

Did you really?

---