Page 12 of Where Love Lies

“Yes, of course.”

Texting Paige, I ask if she’s okay, and she gives me a thumbs up. I swear, she only knows how to reply back with emojis.

The waitress comes in the meantime, setting down the check. I guess she thinks it’s time for our date to be over. It is getting pretty late.

Heston pays for our meals and stands, holding his hand out for me to take. My heart flutters. He says and does all the right things. It makes me wonder what his flaw could be. God, I hope he’s not married and I’m the side chick.

Walking out of the restaurant, he grasps my hand, his warm palm a little bigger than mine, pulling me toward a dock next to the cabana, so boats can pull up and grab a bite to eat before heading back out. Lights are wrapped around the railing, giving off a nice glow as the sun goes down. Reaching the safety rail, I place both hands on it and look across the crisp water. It’s beautiful. The sound of it crashing against the dock is hypnotizing. Heston comes up behind me, resting his head on my shoulder, the smell of bergamot, pepper, and Amberwood making me inhale before letting it go with a sigh.

“Tell me you’ll see me again.” His lips brush my ear, command lacing his tone, surprising me with his assertiveness. A little red flag waves, and I want to tell him not to command me around. It takes me aback for a second, but I do like him and want to see him again. He’s has a charming side, good looking, a romantic. A little dominance is something I can handle.

Turning my head toward him, I whisper, “Yes.”

He kisses my cheek, and I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of his lips against my skin. It’s so foreign but feels so goddamn good. I’d take him home right now if I could, but sleeping with a man on the first date would definitely have the neighbors talking, and it wouldn’t be a good example for Paige.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out.

Paige: Where are you? Are you staying the night with him or something? You’ve been gone all day and I’m bored.

Bored is not a good state to leave a teenager in. Sighing, I text her back, telling her I’m on my way.

“I gotta go,” I tell Heston. I shouldn’t have left her alone. She may be a teenager, but she has the heart of a kid.

I pull up the Uber app and request a ride. Five minutes.

“Me too, unfortunately. I have a few spaces in a shopping mall I need to go over for clients, so I better get started on that.” He takes a step back, and coldness wraps around my body, reminding me I’m not with him, this is just a date.

Holding my purse with both hands, I glance up at Heston, trying not to come off as shy, but I’m not sure what to really say or do to end the date.

“So, I had a really good time. Thank you. It’s nice to get out and go somewhere other than grab-and-go places…” I stop myself. I sound like a hermit, and thatcannotbe attractive.

A sexy smirk pulls at the right side of his face, making my toes curl.

“I did too. Maybe next time I can come to your place, see your pottery, cook for you…” His voice dips, giving off a low, husky tone that’s warm and passionate.

“Maybe…” I tease, and his eyes gloss over with something mischievous. I like it.

“I think you like to taunt me.” His hand on my hip, he blinks his smoldering blue eyes. As If the ocean was doused in gasoline and set on fire. “It’s okay. It just makes me want you more.” My mouth parts, my body warming.

A Jetta pulls up, the headlights shining right on us.

“That’s my ride,” I whisper. Heston grabs my hand, breaking our circle of burning need, and walks me to the car. Such a gentleman. He opens the door, and I slip inside, telling the man my address again. I look up at Heston, hoping he says something I can hang onto until we see each other again.

“Call me later.” He winks, that dominant tone dipping in before we part. I nod, unsure which cue to follow, as he shuts the door.

Sitting in the back seat I replay the whole evening. I wish he would’ve come home with me and told me more about himself. I enjoyed his company, but the feeling of isolation beings to slip up my chest and snake itself around my neck, strangling my confidence.

7

“Mom!” Banging on my bedroom door wakes me from a hard sleep. Stretching my arms, I arch my back and flip over onto my side.

“What?” I mumble, not wanting to get up yet.

“I think Grandma’s here.” My eyes widen, and I lift my head. The bedroom door opens, and Paige stands in her checkered pajama pants, her hair a mess. Her brows furrow, followed by a quivering lip, anguish brushing across her face. I throw the blankets off me, and Paige points toward the kitchen.

Turning into the open space, I instantly notice a brown package sitting on the counter. The idea that my mother is in a box, horribly taped and covered in dust, makes my chest ache. Is this really what life comes to—dead in a vase, inside a box packed among socks? A woman, who was five and a half feet, weighing over a hundred pounds, reduced to ash in a baggy.

Carefully, I take it into my hands and peel the tape off the sides until I can pull the rest of the cardboard apart. The gold and black urn greets me, and my eyes water. I bite back a sob and slip my fingers into the sides of the box to grip the cool vase and gently pull it out. It’s heavy. I set it beside the box before I drop it. Holding back tears, I can’t help but notice the house doesn’t feel so empty anymore, like she’s actually here with us.

---