Page 98 of The Art of Being Merry
She’s got as long as the drive takes to get used to the idea.
I slide the truck into a spot between two SUVs. It’s tight but manageable on both sides. Once the engine is off, I climb out, meeting Clementine by the hood of the truck. She was quiet on the drive here, but she’s not upset or put off. She’s quite the opposite: determined and fearless.
I hold out my hand. There’s a possibility she’ll ignore it, walk ahead of me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If she has a real problem with any of what we discussed, she would make her opinion known. She’s very good at that. Still, I’m relieved when she slips her hand in mine. Even more when she pushes to tiptoes and smacks a kiss on my cheek.
“I want this with you, Dax. Maybe we don’t tell my boys right away, but I’m in.” Her wide smile transforms her face into something more enchanting, even more so than the natural colors of the makeup she applied.
Her words send a rush through me, but it’s not an attempt to throw me off course. It’s exhilarating, the pursuit of something unfamiliar lighting me up.
“Let’s do this.”
Inside the restaurant, we’re escorted to an empty table in the back, waiting for Willa and Beck. It kind of stinks they’re not here. Now we’re going to have to say the words instead of our actions speaking for themselves.
“You owe me a trip to Victoria’s Secret.” Our hands still locked together, Clementine and I spin toward Willa’s voice, met with a laughing Willa.
“What are you talking about?” Clementine asks, astonished.
Willa points to our entwined hands. “I knew something was going on between the two of you, but Beckett didn’t believe me.”
“How did you know? It’s been like six days.”
It feels way longer than six days. It feels like I’ve known her for most of my life. Which is weird because there’s still so much I don’t know about her, so much I want to learn. Thankfully, I get the chance to do so. Under the guise of being with her.
Willa shakes her head. “I’m surprised you have to ask how I know.”
I glance over at my brother. He seems . . . moderately tame, which is a good thing for me. Especially if there was an inkling we were together.
“We should sit. Eat dinner. Spill all the tea.” Willa giggles, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She leads Beckett over and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table.
I check in with Clementine. Her face is a soft pink. Leaning in, I mutter, “Welp.”
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag. But how the hell did she know?” she whispers through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t tell anyone.” I hope she can’t hear the concern in my voice. One day in, and I’m already screwing this up, proving I can’t be trusted if she thinks I told them.
“I don’t think you did.” She narrows her eyes at her sister. If she has her way, she’ll get the reason out of her. Clementine sits across from Willa, leaving me across from Beck. “For real. How did you know?”
“There’s always been a vibe between you guys, like a shared secret only the two of you were privy to. Then you mentioned thinking about having sex with him.”
That catches my attention. “Did you now?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. Clementine’s cheeks flush a flaming red. It’s so adorable. I’ll let her off the hook for now, but I’m revisiting this later.
“Willafred,” she hisses. “Some things are supposed to stay in your head.”
Willa shrugs, unfazed by her sister’s ribbing.
“Okay, what else?”
“How he watched your kids so you could run errands. How he volunteered to help you get your Christmas tree. How he was suddenly always at your house.”
“He’s been a good friend. A great one, actually,” Clementine corrects. “And he’s good with the boys. He pays attention to them, plays games with them.”
I listen to her talking about me, and I can’t help but feel proud, even though any friend should help if they could. But that’s not the case with most people, especially guys.
“Yeah, but then you went out on a random Tuesday night. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then Beckett mentioned something about Dax picking up dinner from Cobble Glen on the same night. What are the odds?”
“Only about the same as you inviting us to dinner at this restaurant about an hour after Dax asked me on a date.” She slings her words at Willa, not in anger, but in agitation.
Willa has the decency to look a little guilty. “Seriously?”
