Chapter 18: First Dates

Brooke:

As I hesitate on the outer side of Landon’s office, I ponder how I found myself here again. About to cross the forbidden threshold for the second time in just a few short months’ time. I have been fighting with myself to come apologize all day, my mind too restless to nap.

Maybe I should not apologize. Maybe it is better he is mad at me. That way, he will not want to talk to me. I can handle the silent treatment for the next few months.

I shake the thoughts from my brain. That would just be cowardly and wrong. Reaching up, I give the wimpiest knock known to man. I am a little shocked when I hear a voice bide me to enter.

I quietly, almost meek-like, enter the room. Landon sits at his desk, papers spread out haphazardly in front of him. He does not say anything as I take the seat in front of his desk. Knowing he would not speak first, I clear the roughness from my throat. “I’ve come to apologize,” I say, twisting my hands together. Landon raises his right eyebrow, then nods as if to say go on. “I didn’t mean what I said downstairs. I don’t really think you’d force yourself on me.”

His jaw clenches. “If you really don’t feel that way, why did you find it necessary to lock your door?” he grinds out.

“You must understand the way I grew up. Sometimes the only thing between me and a man intent on harming me was a locked door.” His fist tightens at my words, but his eyes soften. He reaches across the desk to still my fidgeting hands. He gives me a gentle look.

“I’m sorry for the way you were treated in the past. Those men had no right to cause you harm or fear. I want you to know I would never hurt you or any woman.”

“I know that,” I rasp out. “I may not know a great deal about you, Landon, but I do know that.”

He nods at this, then moves back to relax more into his chair, taking the warmth of his hands with him. “I’d like to redeem that,” he says.

“Redeem what?” I ask.

“You not knowing a great deal about me. Or I you. We're married and about to have a baby, for goodness sake. I think we should use these next three months to really get to know each other.” My heart skips a beat. Landon wants to get to know me. Sure, he said that before, but it was not like now. Was not truly about wanting to know me.

Hesitantly, I say, “Why? What’s the point now when we’re only going to separate after the baby comes?”

Landon shrugs. “We’ll always be a part of each other’s lives. We’re having a baby together.” No, we will not, I think solemnly.

Instead, I say, “Well, how do you propose we go about this getting to know one another?” Landon releases a heart-stopping charming grin that shows his youth.

“Dating.”

“Dating?”

“Yes, dating. Dinner, flowers, dancing, romance.” I blush at the last one. Landon smirks again. I have never been on a date before, let alone dated someone. The thought thrills me. I shrug.

“Alright then.”

“Perfect, let us start with dinner. What do you prefer, Italian or French?”

“French.” My stomach growls at the thought of food, especially French food. I blush again as Landon laughs at the noise. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall to the left of us.

“It’s too late to go out tonight. How about we order take out and watch a movie? I’ll take you out tomorrow night,” he says. I smile, stunned. How did I manage to get two dates in less than five minutes?

“That sounds perfect.” Landon comes around the desk and helps me heave my pregnant self out of the chair.

“I’ll call and place the order; you choose the film,” he says as he deposits me in the living room.

Snatching the remote, I surf for the perfect film. I never really watched T.V. growing up, so the discovery of Disney was like chocolate sauce on top of ice cream. Deciding on one of my favorite Disney films so far, I smirk, wondering what Landon would think. When Landon comes back, he sits down a respectable distance away from me on the couch.

“Food's on its way.” He glances at the T.V. “Beauty and the Beast? Really?” I blush. “Is this supposed to be some kind of hint?” he asks. Clearing my throat, I look over Landon’s shoulder rather than meet his eyes.

“Are you implying you’re some kind of beast?” He leans closer to me, forcing eye contact, and whispers,

“Only if you’re my beauty.”

We stare at each other for a long moment before I clear my throat and turn back toward the T.V. “It has no meaning. I just like it. The discovery of Disney has brightened my world.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Discovery of Disney? Did you not watch it as a child?” I shake my head. A confused look stretches across his features. “How is that possible?”

“We didn’t have a T.V.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Well, there was one in my father’s man cave, but I never went in there.” Landon grunts.

“What about sleepovers? You never watched Disney at slumber parties?” I look down at my fidgeting hands.

“I didn’t have very many friends growing up.”

“A childhood deprived of Disney and raspberries. What an awful way to grow up.” Landon says, almost absent-mindedly.

“Let’s start the movie,” I mumble and press play on the remote. After about fifteen minutes into the movie, Landon’s indignant attitude continues to radiate off him like a bad smell. Feeling uncomfortable, I try to curl my knees up but find my belly is in the way. Trying various different positions only leads me to more discomfort. After about three minutes of me twitching this way and that, Landon reaches down and grabs my legs, pulling them onto his lap. This causes me to turn my body, so I am stretched across the couch.

Blushing at the fact that Landon is touching my swollen feet to hide my nerves, I off-handedly comment on how my father was right: if you do not stick to a strict diet, you get fat.

“You were on a strict diet so you wouldn’t get fat?” More indignation drips from Landon. Way to put my foot in my mouth, I think.

“That’s why I never ate raspberries before. My father tried to keep me to just small portions of meat and lots of vegetables. Any vitamins I needed were taken in the form of supplements, apart from blueberries because those were a superfood.” I shrug.

Landon blanches. “That’s ridiculous. What kind of psycho eats that way?” Landon starts to massage my feet as he rants. I bit my lip to contain the moan his heavenly fingers are trying to pull from me. “Your father deserves to be flogged. And for the record, you are not fat.” This causes a burst of laughter to tumble free. “You’re not!” I gesture to my protruding belly and raise my eyebrow. “You’re pregnant; it doesn’t count as being fat.” I repress my smile.

“Wow, aren’t you the charmer? Despite the pregnancy, I have never been heavier than when I moved into this house. I think I gained 20 pounds in the last year.”

“In all the right areas, beagchaithnini sneachta. All the right places.” Landon playfully leers at my chest, and I attempt to sit up and swat his shoulder.

“You pervert!” Landon grabs me under my shoulders when my sit-up attempt causes me to slide. I shiver, and Landon gets a wicked grin as he pulls me securely back onto the couch.

“Brooke, are you ticklish?” His grin gets wider.

“No!” I scream and move to get up off the couch just as Landon goes to tickle me. Due to my pregnant belly, my movements are too slow, and I become the recipient of tickle torture.

“Stop!” I giggle and flail about. Somehow through all my wriggling and squirming, Landon manages to keep me on the couch. “Stop! I am gonna pee! I’m gonna pee!” I screech. The doorbell rings, and Landon finally relents his torture.

“That’s our food.” He pauses the movie that neither of us was really watching. “You go use the washroom, and I’ll get the food.” He stands up and offers a hand to help heft me off the couch. I am sure I am red as a tomato at his comment about my bodily needs. I cannot believe I repeatedly yelled, “I’m gonna pee,” to Landon.

In the washroom, I quickly relieve myself and try to wash the flush from my cheeks. My hair is in complete disarray. Ugh. My first ever date and I look like a psych patient and scream about bodily fluids. Go me. Returning to the living room, I find Landon has dimmed the lights. A large pizza box is sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’m going to the kitchen to grab napkins; do you need anything?” Landon asks.

“Water, please.” I resituate myself on the couch while Landon is gone, and open the pizza box. It is a supreme pizza, and my mouth salivates at the wonderful smell. Not waiting for Landon, I grab a slice, moaning at the cheesy goodness.

“Somebody's hungry.” Landon chuckles as he re-enters the living room. He sets my water glass in front of me and sits down beside me. “I think we need to restart this movie,” he says as he fiddles with the remote.

We eat in silence as we watch the movie. I eat until my stomach feels like bursting, then settle back into the couch. About halfway through the movie, Landon cleans up our dinner and turns the lights completely off.

When he sits back down, he does not leave a respectable distance. His side is completely plastered to my side. My thigh feels like it’s burning from the heat of his pressed against it. As the movie sings about something that was not there before, I slowly relax my body into his side. A few minutes later, Landon stretches his arm across my shoulders. Then he starts playing with my hair. Does he even know he is doing that? Or is he doing it on purpose? My heart is hammering in my chest. Not wanting him to stop, I try to remain still.

Landon:

I feel Brooke slowly start to relax into me as I twirl her silk-like hair around my finger. This night has gone great, better than anything I could expect. So far, we spent the last three hours without fighting. That is a new record. I am so in-tuned to Brooke's every movement that the movie is just noise. She smells amazing—of raspberries, cream, and Brooke. I have learned so many things about her by just paying attention to the small things she does. I learned she does not like olives, as she picked them off her pizza. How she blurts things out when she is nervous, and that she is extremely ticklish. She loves Disney, and I got to know a little bit about her upbringing. I should take her to Disneyworld, I think.

“What does beagchaithnini sneachta mean?” she randomly blurts out. I look down at her. She is tucked into my side, and the feeling of rightness washes over me.

“What?” I ask, forgetting her question.

“Beagchaithnini sneachta. You call me that. Why? What does it mean?” Continuing to play with her hair, I rumble out.

“Little snowflake. It means little snowflake.” Her nose scrunches up in the cutest manner.

“Why on earth do you call me that?” she exclaims. I shrug.

“Snowflakes are beautiful works of art that can’t be captured or copied. No two are the same. There are unique crystals of ice that shimmer in the sun, kissing the earth with an angel’s kiss,” I say as I lose myself in the deep pools of her eyes.

Her eyes glimmer with tears, and I pull my eyebrows together in confusion. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Tears are streaming faster down her cheeks. I cup her cheek in my hand, using my thumb to brush them away.

“That is a crime in and of itself,” I whisper before my lips gently brush hers. She kisses me back, and it seems almost shy. Not wanting her to freak out and pull back like she has been, I lightly trace her lips with my tongue, asking permission for entry. When her lips part, something swells in my chest.

My tongue brushes against hers in a slow tangle for minutes, maybe even hours. Eventually, I slow the kiss, bringing it to a reluctant end. She pants for breath, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. I brush her hair behind her ear and finally break the charged air. “And of course, due to the fact that you’re so small, I dress up snowflake with the word ‘little’.” Her cheeks pinken as she tries to look insulted and halfheartedly whacks me. Leaning back into the couch, I pull her with me.

We snuggle on the couch until the end of the movie and halfway through another one before I feel Brooke slump against me in sleep. I turn off the T.V. and just admire her as she sleeps. I lift her gently and bring her upstairs to our room. She might be mad at me in the morning, but as I tuck her into our bed, I cannot care less. I change into a pair of sweats out of respect for her, then climb into the bed with her. She instantly curls into me as she slumbers, and I wrap my arms around her. For a while, I just watch her sleep, afraid to end the night. Afraid that tomorrow she will be back to yelling at me and locking herself away. I mentally kick myself again for the way I treated her for the past year. Eventually, my eyes droop, and I succumb to the best night’s sleep I have had in weeks.