“So, you don’t think it was a date?” Mila looks perplexed as she sips her vanilla latte.
I toss my hands in the air, garnering attention from the table next to us at the Coffee Grid. I flash the elderly gentleman a smile and duck my head. Turning back to Mila, I hiss, “I have no idea what to think. It’s weird, right?”
“I would have staked my life on him kissing you good night.”
“I mean, yeah. After he almost kissed me at Corks. It looked like he wanted to kiss me, didn’t it?”
Mila gives me a look. “It looked like he wanted to lay you down and have his way with you on top of the bar.”
“I wish,” I grumble. Mila laughs.
“He brushed my hair out of my face,” I tell her the truth.
She tilts her head, thinking. “Sweet. Sensual. So not what I pictured Brawler doing.”
“I know he has a I-could-cut-off-your-wind-pipe-with-one-finger look but he really is a nice guy. A good dad.”
“Yeah,” Mila agrees. “Has he called?”
I groan. “That’s the worst part. Nothing. I mean, I’ve seen him at the office—”
“And?”
“And he said hello.”
Her mouth drops open. “That’s it?”
I slump, this conversation making me feel worse than the downward spiral of my thoughts over the past three days. “He wished me a good day,” I add miserably.
Mila’s mouth drops open, and she stares at me for a full three seconds before tossing her head back and laughing.
“It’s not funny, Mil!”
“You’re right.” She wipes the corners of her eyes, still laughing. “It’s hilarious!”
I sulk, failing to see the humor in another man not being interested in me.
“I bet he doesn’t know how to act around you.”
“You just staked your life on him kissing me. You’re dead,” I remind her.
Mila sticks out her tongue and swipes up her latte, taking a long drink. “No, he’s into you, Maisy. Even Damien and Beau were talking about it at Corks. I really think he doesn’t know what to do with you.” She leans closer, dropping her voice. “Think about it. When was his last serious relationship?”
“Years ago,” I offer, recalling Axel sharing that he’s been on his own—dad over everything—for years.
“And I bet he doesn’t usually date women tied to his team.”
“Probably not,” I concede.
“And you met his daughter.”
“I did,” I say slowly, wondering if that threw him off. “But the almost-kiss happened after I met Lola.”
“Yeah, but maybe it spooked him. Maybe he realizes that things with you would be more than what he’s used to. He’s a big, gruff, quiet guy. The ultimate family man. Introverted, keeps to himself…” She trails off, widening her eyes.
“And?” I widen mine back, wondering where she’s going with this.
“You scare him.”
At this, I toss my head back and laugh. “I don’t scare him, Mila. The guy looks like Jason Momoa.”
Mila giggles. “He really does.”
“Right?” I add, happy someone agrees with me. “He’s hot.”
“He’s been single a long time.”
Sighing, I pick up my coffee and take a drink. “Maybe. I just wish I could read the situation better. I hate not knowing where I stand, like I’m existing in limbo. It reminds me too much of, you know.”
“Josh,” my best friend says. “And Tim.”
My lip curls at the mention of my ex-boyfriend and ex-boss. Too many men in my life who kept me walking on eggshells. Too many men in my life I allowed to keep me walking on eggshells.
I have an amazing dad. He’s too wonderful for me to make decisions like a woman with daddy issues. But mommy issues? That’s a whole other story. I guess I take after my dad in the relationship department. Like him, I’m always the pacifist, always accepting, never one to rock the boat. I’ve come a long way in knowing my value, in manifesting a better future, a more positive life outlook. “I’m done feeling that way. Like I don’t know my own worth.”
“You should be,” Mila agrees. “But I don’t think that’s what Axel’s doing.”
“Me neither. I don’t know what he’s doing.”
Mila snorts. “That’s just men.”
I crack a smile. “Maybe. What do you think I should do?”
“Either wait and see what happens the next time your paths cross. Or ask him out.”
My mouth drops open. “Ask him out?”
“You just said you’re done waiting around, feeling like you don’t know where you stand. If you ask him out, you’ll know. He’ll either accept or turn you down and then, limbo is over.”
“Jeez, Mila, do you have to take everything I say and…run with it?”
She snickers. “Hell yeah. If not me, then who? Well, besides Missy.”
I roll my eyes, turning over her idea carefully in my mind. I’ve never asked a man out before. Hell, I never asked a boy out, not even to the Sadie Hawkins dance in high school. Or middle school. My stomach twists at the thought, at the rejection, that could ensue.
But what if he didn’t reject me? And, why the hell should I be scared to pursue something—someone—I want?
I take a deep breath, recalling the wonderful professor I had in college, Dr. M. She first introduced me to yoga and then, manifestation and visualization.
You are a strong and confident woman.
Doesn’t that mean being brave? Putting myself out there, fear of rejection be damned? Doesn’t that mean putting myself, my wants, first sometimes?
“You could be right,” I finally admit.
“Of course I’m right. How ‘bout this? Give the big guy till Friday. If he doesn’t make a move by then, ball’s in your court.”
“You know, you’re getting better at using non-football analogies.”
“Ah, classic avoidance.” Mila shakes her head.
I shrug.
“I’m expanding my repertoire,” she adds. “Trading some football lingo for other sports references.”
I snort. “Devon will be disappointed that you went with basketball instead of hockey.”
Mila laughs, before calmly sipping her coffee. She waits me out until I agree. Which, eventually, I always do.
“Fine,” I say, but I’m unable to keep the flutter of excitement from my tone. Because as scary as the idea of asking Axel out is, it’s scarier to think I’ll live my life never going out on a ledge. Never going after things that make me happy. “We’ll revisit this conversation on Friday.”
Mila shrugs. She’s such a good friend, she doesn’t point out when she’s right. “Or you’ll already have a date.”
“I hope so.”
I’d love nothing more than a real date with Axel Daire. A date that ends with a good night kiss.
My wish comes true two days later. I’m tossing my purse down on the kitchen island after finishing work when my phone rings.
When Axel Daire flashes across the screen of my Apple Watch, my heart simultaneously leaps into my throat and down to my toes.
He’s calling me. He’s calling me! He’s calling me.
Calm down.
You’re strong, confident, and—oh shit, where’s the damn phone?
I rummage in my purse, relief skittering through my veins when my fingers wrap around the phone and pull it out of the jumble of crap my purse holds.
I draw in a deep inhale and let it out slowly, hoping my voice doesn’t sound like I just went for a sprint when I answer.
To be safe, I take another deep breath. Oh crap, what if I miss the call and have to call him back?
“Hello?” I sound breathless. But breathless can be hot, right? But is this breathless sexy or breathless like I can’t breathe?
“Maisy? You okay?” Axel sounds concerned and I wince. Breathless like I can’t breathe.
I clear my throat. “Yes, fine. How are you?”
“Good, good,” he murmurs, his voice lower than a moment ago.
“Good,” I squeak, hating empty moments of silence. I plop down on a kitchen barstool and force myself to breathe, not speak.
“Yeah.” He pauses. “Listen, I’m not good at this.”
Two seconds tick by. This again? “At what?”
He chuckles but the sound is self-deprecating, and it eases the knot of nerves bundling in my throat. “This. I’m calling to ask you out, Maisy.”
“You-you are?” Disbelief rounds out my words and I wince again.
“Yes.” His voice is direct, certain. “I’d like to take you to dinner. This Friday. If you don’t have plans.”
The inner strong, confident, brave girl that resides in my heart goes wild, performing the latest TikTok dance with ease. As inner me shakes her money maker, outer me tries not to hyperventilate.
“I’m free.”
“Good. That’s good. Eight o’clock?”
“Sure.” I’m breathless again.
“I’ll make reservations at Le Papillon.”
And I can’t breathe. Because I’ve been dying to try the best French restaurant in Knoxville for over two years. Mila and I made plans to go once, but then Avery got a stomach bug and needed her.
It’s not the type of place I’d feel comfortable going solo and…it’s not the type of place I’d ever picture Axel at but…
I smile. He wants to take me to Le Papillon.
“Do you think you’d like that restaurant?” he asks, a hint of nerves in his voice.
My heart melts. I’m goo. A messy gush of emotion.
“I’d love that,” I whisper, clenching the phone tightly.
“Good,” he says, reverting to his go-to word. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I grin at the confirmation. “I’ll see you then, Axel.”
“Okay. ‘Bye, Maisy.”
I hang up the phone and squee. I let my internal girl out to get down, dancing around my kitchen like the happiest version of myself.
Axel Daire wants to take me to Le Papillon.
I call Mila.
“Hey, Mais.”
“I HAVE A DATE!” I holler, shaking my ass in front of the stove.
“YEAH, GIRL!” she shouts back, always my ride or die. “When? Did he call? Text? Show up on your porch? Tell me everything.”
I relocate to the living room and drop onto the sofa Axel reclaimed from Josh. The reminder makes me smile and I kick my feet up, snuggling into the plush cushions. “He called. We’re going to—wait for it—Le Papillon. Friday. At eight,” I rattle off the details.
“No way! That’s your top to-try restaurant.”
“I know!” I squeeze my eyes shut, excited and delighted and happy.
“Damn. Axel Daire knows what’s up!”
“Hey!” Devon shouts in the background. “I know what the fuck is up too!”
“What are you wearing?” Mila asks, ignoring her boyfriend.
“I don’t know. Can we discuss?”
“Duh. I’ll be over in thirty. I’ll grab Mexican for dinner,” Mila says.
“Wait. What am I supposed to eat?” Devon whines.
“You’ll be fine.” I hear Mila kiss him. “I gotta go. It’s Maisy.”
“No kidding,” Devon grumbles. And then, “Hey, Mais!”
“Tell Devon hi,” I laugh. “See you soon.”
“See you,” Mila says. “I’m so excited!”
“Me too!”
When we disconnect, I lay back on my couch and turn my head to face Lux. “I got a date,” I tell my fish.
She swims around, ignoring me.
“He’s a hot, sexy, gruff but sweet as hell hockey player,” I continue, watching Lux pop into her pirate house. “I know, I didn’t see it coming either. But this is good, right? I mean, I’d been wary of Josh, and his intentions, for months before we broke up. And that was before he tried to swipe my furniture.” I look around the living room, enjoying the fresh design and feel of the space. “This is a good thing.”
I’ve got a space I feel at home in. A job I enjoy. Hobbies that fill my creative soul.
And now, a date with a man who makes my heart skip. A date with a man who seems to revel in my curves and hang onto the words as they fall from my lips.
A man who is making my dream come true.
He’s taking me to Le Papillon. I pick up a pillow and hold it to my chest, squeeing again.
And then, once more. Just because it feels good.