Page 83 of Why Not Us?

When she moves to step away, I tighten my grip on her waist, holding her close, dipping my head to catch those lips again. She sighs, leaning in, her fingers threading into my hair. I drop one hand, sneaking it up her skirt so I can cup her ass, and she moans, making my cock stir.

She breaks the kiss, laughing and pushing against my shoulder.

“Stop distracting me, or we’ll be late. We have a reservation for dinner before the play.”

I let her go, watching as she rushes around her apartment, finding a purple cardigan, her purse, and some high-heeled shoes she called wedges once.

“It’s a bit early to eat,” she says as she ties the straps on her shoes. “But I figured it would be okay. The play isn’t over until ten, and that’s too late.”

“An early dinner is fine,” I say.

In the three months we’ve been dating, tonight is the first time we’re doing something that is completely Adalie’s thing. I’d taken her out a few times in June, but in July, we mostly stayed in, given how busy she was. When she bought the tickets, she insisted she plan and pay for the whole night. It’s weird, being taken out for a date instead of the other way around, but Adalie is happy, and I’ve come to realize there’s not much I won’t do to get her to smile.

When she’s ready, she stands and looks at the key hooks by her door.

“Damn,” she says. “Have you seen my keys?”

She rushes around her apartment, looking for where she left them.

“I have the spare. We can find them later.”

She sighs, lifting a couch cushion. “Yes. We can do that. I’m just worried I might have left them somewhere when I checked the mail earlier.”

At that, I move to the kitchen island and the basket where she sets her mail before she’s read it.

“You mean this mail?” I ask, picking up the set of keys she’d also put in the basket. “And these keys?”

She turns to me with a grateful smile and blows out a breath. “Yes. Thank you.”

Then she comes to me, kissing me before linking her arm through mine and we leave. She asks about my day, and I tell her about the upcoming fall beer brewing schedule in preparation for the Beer Festival in Whistler in a month. I always think this stuff bores her, trying to limit how much I tell her, but she keeps asking questions. Some questions tell me she’s remembering things I’ve told her before. I turn the conversation to her and what she did this morning. She didn’t work today, so she tells me about her yoga class, then we’re at the little dock where a small passenger ferry is chugging toward us along False Creek.

“Have you been on one of these before?” Adalie asks as we wait for it to pull up to the dock.

“Once. I took Dani to Science World last summer.” I gesture in the direction the boat is coming, which is also the direction of the science centre. “She saw it and insisted. We rode it to Granville Island, stopped for lunch, and rode it back.”

Adalie smiles up at me. “You are such a good father,” she says.

Her compliment makes my heart swell. I kiss her upturned lips as the ferry comes to a stop and we get on. It rocks under our movement as we take a seat. We’re the only ones aboard, other than the driver, who climbs on after untying us from the dock and shoving off. Adalie says hello to him as though she knows him personally. I’ve noticed she’s like that with everyone, open and welcoming as though every person she meets is a potential friend.

“Date night?” the driver asks.

“Yes,” Adalie answers, snuggled into my side, her hand on my knee. “We’re going to seeMuch Ado About Nothing.”

“Over at Bard on the Beach?”

“Yep. I got us excellent seats, too. Fifth row, centre section, but aisle seats for his long legs.”

I chuckle and she gives me that wide grin.

“He’s never been before,” she tells the driver without looking away from me, “so I wanted to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible.”

The driver laughs along at her teasing. Little does she know, as long as she’s next to me, I’m happy to do anything.

“But before the play, I got us reservations at Bridges,” she continues. “I asked for the patio, too.”

“That’ll be nice,” the driver says as he pulls up to the dock. “Weather is perfect for a nice dinner outside. And with September around the corner, there aren’t too many perfect days left this summer.” He ties off and steps onto the dock, holding his hand out for Adalie to climb up. I follow closely behind while she takes another second to confirm the last ferry ride times of the night.

As we walk toward the restaurant, she says, “I don’t think we’ll be able to take the ferry back, but that was fun. I love going out on the water.”

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