Page 84 of Keeping the Score

The next Friday morning, around eleven o’clock, I’ve just finished my morning meeting. I sit back in my chair. What’s in store for me tonight? Ford asked me earlier this week to keep Friday night open. But why? I have nothing planned, so it’s not a problem, but it makes me curious.

Then he and Tilly show up at my door. My hair’s in a messy bun with a pen stuck in it, I’m wearing old yoga pants and a sweatshirt… but they’ve seen me looking worse. “Come in. What’s up?”

He strolls in with the baby. She reaches out to me. “Bama!”

Oh, no. Is she saying mama? Oh, God. My heart.

I take her from him, because she’s happy to see me and I’m happy to see her and I want to squeeze her chubby little body. “Hi, baby.” I give her smacking kisses all over her face and she laughs. I look back at Ford, pretending that never happened. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles at both of us. “Tonight. We’re going out.”

“Oh.” I blink and carry Tilly into my living room. “Where?”

“That’s a surprise.”

I squint at him. “Okay. Like… are we having dinner?”

“Yes.”

“A child-friendly place,” I say, nodding.

“No. Definitely not child friendly.”

I tilt my head. “But… Tilly…”

“She’s not coming with us.”

My eyes widen.

“I’ve got a babysitter lined up,” he continues. He moves closer to me. “And we are going on a date.”

I blink a few times. “A… date?”

“Yeah.” Now his confidence seems to falter, his eyebrows lowering a bit. “Andi, will you go out with me tonight?”

I gaze back at him. We’ve never gone on a date. Our relationship isn’t like that. My heart is pumping at an uncomfortable speed. What does this mean? “I…”

He waits, his eyes flickering.

“I’m not hesitating because I don’t want to,” I say. “I’m just not sure why…”

His beautiful mouth softens and he tucks a piece of hair that’s hanging in my face behind my ear with gentle familiarity. “I want to take you on a date. I want to have alone, adult time with you.”

I smirk. “We have that all the time.” Although even in bed, when Tilly’s asleep, we’re not really alone.

He laughs. “Okay, true. And it’s hot as fuck.”

“Ack! Language!”

“Right, right. Anyway. I want to go out with you. I want to wine you and dine you. And then sixty-nine you.”

“Noooo.” I start laughing.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I want this to be a romantic date.”

Still choked up with laughter, I say, “Offering a sixty-nine is romantic?”

He collapses into laughter, too. “Sure, why not.”

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