Page 28 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
“Worst watchdog ever,” I tease with a scratch between her ears.
She smiles as if I paid her a compliment, mouth ajar, tongue out, eyes bright. It’s a look that always ignites a spark of joy in my chest. Yes, she’s a responsibility, like my dad said, but she also feels like an inevitability. Like I was meant to be hers just as she was meant to be mine.
“Aggie,” Everett’s lowered voice comes through the door. “Tell your mom to open up.”
She barks again, her tail wagging harder as she hauls herself into a seated position, which still takes her some effort, but is already much easier for her than it used to be.
Not wanting to wake our neighbors, I find my phone on the nightstand.
CAMERON:I’m still in bed
EVERETT:Yes, and?
CAMERON:And I’m not ready for you to see me first thing in the morning
EVERETT:I can’t tell if I should be flattered or offended
CAMERON:How about well warned?
EVERETT:The possibilities I’m imagining here...
CAMERON:At least let me brush my teeth and comb my hair
EVERETT:Spoiler alert: I’ve seen your teeth unbrushed and your hair uncombed
CAMERON:That was before I was trying to impress you
EVERETT:In case I didn’t make myself clear: zero impressing is required here
CAMERON:By impressing I mean letting me woo you with base levels of daily hygiene
EVERETT:Aww. So romantic! Is that Shakespeare or Keats?
“Go away!” I call across the room. “We’ll be over in ten!”
Everett’s muffled laugh makes its way through my door.
“Don’t eat breakfast,” he says. “I have plans. You know. Once I’m wooed.”
I send a wary look in the general direction of my door. We didn’t talk about getting together today, and while I’m elated he’s taking the initiative and making plans, I’m nervous about what he might’ve cooked up. Is this a date? Ishetrying to impressme? Does he remember that I have to work at noon? And that I need to get Aggie outside for some exercise before that? What do I bring? Or wear? Will this cost me money I don’t have?
And the big one: Is it a good thing or a bad thing that he lives just down the hall?
Thankfully, I don’t have time to spiral myself into a state of high anxiety about what might or might not be my first official date in three years. I rub the last of the sleep from my eyes with the heels of my hands. Then I haul myself out of bed and check the time. Since I stupidly gave myself only ten minutes, I throw on a simple rayon dress I bought in college when I had the time and money to care about things like clothes, and which has weathered the always-changing fashion landscape pretty well. I pair it with cozy cable-knit sweater tights, a long, thick cardigan I picked up at a thrift store lastfall, and a densely embroidered scarf Minh Ha would probably like, given the collection of patterned scarves I’ve seen her wear. With no time to fuss, I yank a comb through the tangled mess that is my long hair—which I’ve heard described as honey blond by a few generous souls, though it falls more accurately in the dishwater range—and weave it into a simple braid that hangs down my back almost to my waist.
When I’m as presentable as possible, I harness Aggie and load her into her wagon, tucking a ball and an extra blanket into the corner, and a bag of treats into my pocket, before swallowing a flutter of nerves and wheeling her down the hall to Everett’s apartment.
After a brief knock, he answers the door in navy corduroys and a rich mulberry roll-collared sweater with a single leather toggle at the base of his neck. I don’t know what it is about this man and his sweaters, but each one makes me want to fall against him in a long, lingering hug. Maybe because they all look so soft. More likely because he’s the one wearing them.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly breathless.
“Hi,” he returns, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as his cheeks dimple.
We do that thing we also did in my apartment the other night, mid-baking-confessional, where we get shifty and rosy-cheeked as we look at each other like our minds need a moment to catch up with our hearts, or like all we want to do is look, and be, and share these seconds.
Everett blinks himself out of our locked gaze first, stepping forward to enfold me in the embrace I was coveting a moment ago, and planting a sweet little kiss on my cheek before he releases me to give an eagerly awaiting Aggie a greeting of her own, bending lowto scratch her neck with both hands and scolding her for letting me sleep in on a beautiful October day.
“Want to come in for a sec?” he asks. “I just need to grab a jacket, but I told you a while ago I’d show you my place so you knew I wasn’t a hoarder. I feel like it’s high time I make good on that offer. Consider it my way of wooing you with base levels of human dignity.”
