A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Elliott

ELLIOTT

I don’t know what I want from Ryanne. Rather, I do, but she’s never going to give it to me, not when the picture of me she has in her head is so different than who I actually am.

But I don’t know how to tell her about everything I have going on in my life, and I distract myself by changing my glasses from the night-driving ones to my regular pair.

“I’ve never seen that pair,” she says, and she has some high walls going up between us. I thought I’d knocked down a few layers of bricks there for a minute, but nope. They’re all right back up—and getting higher.

“I need them for night driving,” I say, flirting with danger now.

Ry looks at me, and now would be a great time to spill my guts to her. Really lay out why I haven’t dated seriously in years, and why this has to be temporary between us, even if I want it to be more.

I swallow everything, because I’ve already done and said too much. Calling her beautiful? Touching her hair?

My mind is clearly going—along with my eyesight.

“I didn’t know people had different glasses for day and night,” she says.

I open the door to Edna’s, ready to be distracted by the menu, though I already know I’m getting the chicken pot pie. “I do,” I say.

“Your prescription must be really bad,” she says, and I want to bark at her to let this go.

“It is,” I say, and I edge by her to the hostess station. “Hey, Carlie.” I grin at the woman there. “I have a reservation for two.”

“.” She laughs and comes around the podium. “How are you, sugar?” She’s at least a decade older than me, and I hug her back like we’re best friends.

No one knows me the way Ry does, and I’ve kept things even from her. Pure guilt guts me, and I step away from Carlie. “Just fine, ma’am,” I say, so Ry won’t think I’m flirting with someone when I’m so not.

In fact, I reach back and take her hand and tug her closer, so she’ll stop hovering behind me. “This is Ryanne. Have you met her?” I smile for all I’m worth and then look at Carlie. “Edna’s is one of her favorite places.”

“I usually just order out,” Ry says, and she’s still somewhat stiff beside me. I’ll have to tell her she needs practice to convince anyone she likes me—and that’ll only allow me to see her plenty before we have to go to New York and put on a show for her family.

“Well, welcome in, my dears.” Carlie plucks two menus from her stand and adds, “This way.”

By the time we’re in our booth, I feel winded, like I’ve run a mile by walking through the dining room with Ry’s hand in mine.

She slides in first, and I do something I’ve done with other women I’ve liked—I sit on the same side as her, crowding her closer to the wall.

She says nothing as Carlie hands out our menus. The moment she’s out of earshot, Ryanne mutters, “You’re sitting on this side?”

“Yes,” I fire back in an equally powerful whisper. “Then we can talk without anyone overhearing.” And I can sit closer to her. Inhale that warm scent of her body spray, and fantasize that this is real.

Yes, I’m delusional—and on a roller coaster of hot-cold-hot-cold. Tell her everything, insist on honesty, touch her the way only a boyfriend does—then, close down. Shut off. Stuff everything away.

I sigh, because I’m honestly exhausted.

“I know that sigh,” she says.

“You do not,” I say.

“You’re wishing we’d stayed home and ordered in.”

“That’s not what people do on their first dates.” I set down the menu, tired of pretending when I don’t need to. “So what do you think? July? August?”

“You didn’t break-up with Meri until September,” she says.

“Her name was Millie,” I say, though it doesn’t matter. “And what? I have to give my whole dating history while we’re New York?”

“Well, you can’t go from dating Millie on Friday to me on Saturday,” she says. “And I would never go out with someone while they have a girlfriend.” She lifts her glass of water and takes a sip. “October?”

“That’s not a very long time.” I copy her and take a drink of water. The ice clinks against my teeth, which I hate, and I’ll have to ask for a straw before I take another sip.

“We work together,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’ve known you for years. It won’t be that hard to believe that our, uh, relationship has advanced faster than it would’ve otherwise.”

She turns toward me and pins me with one of her diva-death looks. “And I don’t appreciate the implication that it takes me a long time to make a connection with someone.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It’s normal for people to date for months or even years before they introduce their partner to their family.”

“I know that.”

Her eyebrows go up, clearly challenging me.

“I just…want this to go really well for you, Ryanne.” I drop my head, wishing the waitress would show up already. I even look for her, but there’s no one within twenty feet of us.

“And I’m willing to do whatever it takes for it to go really well for you.” I look at her then, and she doesn’t skirt her gaze away either. Fire could fall from heaven and neither of us would notice. So much chemistry boils between us, and I want to bathe in it, let the hot bubbles pour over me, drown me—because at least I’ll be with Ry.

“All right,” I say with another sigh a couple of hours later. I’ve just arrived back to the Big House, and lights burn from every window on the bottom floor. The top two levels are completely dark, and I look up to where Ry’s room sits.

She hasn’t moved, and once I’d blinked my way out of our staring contest at the restaurant, I’d said, “Let’s just talk about something else for the rest of the night. We have time to work through this before we actually have to go to New York.”

Ryanne had agreed, and we’d managed to have a pretty decent dinner date, if I do say so myself. If I’d gone out with anyone else tonight, I’d ask them out again.

So I take a breath and ask, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

She swings her gaze to me lazily, almost like she’s just now clued in that we’re in the car together, that we’ve been out for a few hours now. Together.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“How about we go around to all the houses who have their Christmas lights set up with that timed music?” I raise my eyebrows, wishing I didn’t have to wear my night glasses. But I’d tried getting out of the parking lot without them, and nope. I’d have killed us on the way here.

In fact, I can barely see Ry nod as she does it. When I get tired, my vision worsens, and it’s definitely time for me to get home.

“You know,” I say, despite the nod. “The ones with the radio stations we can tune into, and see the snowmen wave along with Little Drummer Boy ?”

“Yes,” Ry says. “I know what a Christmas light show is.”

“I’m at the store until eight,” I say, ignoring her jab. “But we can’t go until dark anyway, and then I can stop by and do the closing routine.”

“I can help too,” Ry says, and she bends to pick up her purse.

“I’ll come walk you to the door,” I say, my voice turning into a ghost of itself. We did not set any rules for our false relationship. I’ve kissed women on the first date before, but if this really had been mine and Ry’s first date, I wouldn’t kiss her.

Whether I said it or not, Ry does have a hard time making connections. Okay, that’s not true. She just takes longer, and she only invites a select few into her inner circle.

I open her door and say, “They’re releasing more of the rover communications on Mars tomorrow.”

Ry rises from the car like the queen she is, placing her hand in mine. It might as well be gloved, and I should be kneeling in her presence.

“That’s amazing,” she says with a smile, and the fact that she doesn’t tease me about my obsession with the rovers on Mars speaks to how well we know each other.

I don’t tease about her M&Ms—but I do about her crocs—and she doesn’t make light of how fun I think the Mars rovers are. Or my insane desire for bacon at every meal.

This fact stands in stark contrast to how I haven’t told Ry about my health problems, or the real reason I don’t date seriously.

Standing there in the driveway of the Big House, I can admit—only to myself—that I want to date Ry for real.

Not fake.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” Ry says, and she tips up onto her toes before I can truly protest and brushes her lips along my cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so grumpy at the theater. Thank you for booking us at Edna’s.”

She settles back onto her croc’ed feet and looks at me.

“Did you get your leftovers?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t eat leftover fried chicken.”

I grin at her. “So spaghetti is okay, but fried chicken is not.”

She smiles back, and it’s so glorious and so beautiful. I want to make her smile like this every day for the rest of my life.

With that thought comes the demoralizing and debilitating one that reminds me, Soon enough, you won’t be able to see her smile like this.

My resolve to keep my fate for myself and myself alone hardens, and I lean into her and wrap my arms around her. She melts into my chest, and even when I’m blind, I’ll be able to feel her heart beating against my ribs.

Maybe that could be enough.

Yeah, and then what, ? She’ll have to take care of you completely.

No, I won’t do that to someone. I simply can’t.

“I would like to practice the kissing before we go to New York,” I whisper.

She stiffens against me and steps away. “Maybe tomorrow night.” And with that, Ry slips past me and goes around the front of the car before I even know what’s happened.

I follow her, pausing at the front corner of my car and watching her walk up the sidewalk to the Big House. She opens the door before she turns back, and the inside light halos her as she lifts her hand to me in a goodnight wave.

I return the gesture, smiling, and then I get behind the wheel again. Someone else pulls into the driveway beside me as I start to back out, and I glance over to Aaron Stansfield. I can’t quite see who’s in his passenger seat, but I can find out with a single text to Ryanne.

But I never text and drive, because it takes so much energy just to see the road, and I focus on getting myself home without hurting anyone.

To my great relief, my momma isn’t awake, and I go through my nightly routine of locking down the house before whistling for Peppermint, my gray and white cat, and then heading down the hall to my bedroom.

I hold the door for my feline, and I toss my glasses on the nightstand as I peel my clothes off. With just me, Peppermint, and my boxers, I finally get in bed, utterly exhausted.

I expect to fall asleep instantly, but instead, I close my eyes, and every fantasy I’ve ever had about my best friend roars to life.

My phone buzzes, and I’m sure it’s her. No one else ever texts me this late at night, but my eyes hurt too much to look at my phone in the dark.

Peppermint meows and finds a place to curl into my legs, and I simply live inside the dream of what it would be like to kiss Ryanne for real.

“Tomorrow,” I tell myself. The new rover communications will be out, and Ry and I will be on our second date, and I’ll tell her about my vision, and how I really feel, and I’m definitely going to enjoying kissing her.

Tomorrow.