Page 67 of The Sweetest Chirp

“Did you want to kiss him?”

I scoff at that, but then I hide my face so she can’t see the flush. Of course I did, but I don’t know if I’m ready to admit that.

“You should have kissed him anyway,” Ingrid says, and I cut my eyes up to her.

A grin curves my lips as I say, “Oh yeah?”

She nods as if she knows she’s right. “Yeah, the sexual tension between you is a living, breathing thing. All of us feel it, and maybe if you act on it, things will be toned down and not leave us all gagging.”

I snort a laugh at that, though, I don’t think there is any toning down what’s between Thatcher and me. As she said, it’s a living, breathing thing that is begging for us to act on our desires. But damn it, the last time we did, everything blew up in our faces.

I don’t answer her, only watch as she finishes my hair. I try to come up with different scenarios for tonight and then how I’ll handle them. It’s how I manage my anxiety that likes to rear its ugly head. I am usually ten steps ahead, but that day Thatcher came barreling into the office at the IceCats compound, I wasnowhere near prepared. Just like how I felt when he came into the diner.

Thatcher Orlov keeps me on my toes.

There is a knock at the door, and we both turn as Arwen comes into the room, pulling a little red wagon. I scrunch my brows together since she’s supposed to be at my mom’s. She struggles in, the carpet making it hard for her to pull the wagon. I get up to help her, but then I’m knocked to a dead stop when I see the contents. A huge bouquet of red roses in a sleek black vase sits beside a large black box with a big red bow. Beside it is a shoe-sized black box also with a bow, and on top is a small black box with another smaller black box on top of that. My heart thumps in my chest as my mouth goes dry. Meanwhile, Arwen is grinning up at me like she is delivering me a pony.

She holds out her hand, and in it is a black envelope. My breath catches as I hunch down to take it from her. Before I can open it, though, Arwen comes closer, her fingers moving along my hair. With such wonderment in her eyes, she signs,You’re so pretty, Mommy.

My heart clenches in my chest as I tell her,Not as pretty as you, my love. Thank you for my gifts.

She shakes her head, her eyes full of mischief.They’re not from me,she signs, her lips curving up.They’re from Daddy.

Daddy? I sign, just to mess with her.Mine or yours?

She giggles at my silliness, throwing her arms up in frustration.My daddy because he wanted to make you happy.

My heart swells as I look into the very eyes she shares with the man who does make me happy.Well, thank you.

She nods at a job well done and then skips off toward the door. I watch as she disappears, and then I hear her squeal loudly as she usually does when Thatcher captures her before lifting her above his head. At six-three, that’s one hell of a flight,and I don’t blame her for the squeal. I hear Thatcher say, “Good job,malyshonuk,” and my heart soars.

He is the best dad.

I knew he would be.

I lower myself to the bed beside where Arwen parked my wagon as a fluttery feeling fills my chest. Not only did he put the boxes in it, but he also filled the wagon with fresh white rose petals. I feel Ingrid sit beside me before I open the envelope to his neat handwriting. As kids, I used to make fun of him since he wrote better than my left-handed self, but now, I’m in awe of it.

Or maybe it’s his words.

Audrina,

Over three years ago, I had this whole night planned out as I watched you sleep the morning after our night together. A night I’ll never forget, because of how very special it was to me. I need you to know that I had every single detail arranged for our first date with the intention of showing you just how great it’d be with me. But we know how that played out. This is my do-over. Something I never thought I’d have, and let me tell you, I’m not taking this chance for granted. I know that no matter what you would wear tonight, I’d be utterly obsessed with you, but I wanted you to wear something I picked out for you. I hope you like everything, and I can’t wait to show you a night you’ll never forget.

This may be our first date, but trust, it’s not our last.

Xoxo,

T.

My eyes gomisty when I read the last line, and I find myself reading it all over again before I press the letter to my chest. Is this real life? Did he really have all this planned? I am sure I would have been just as floored as I am now if he had been given the chance to show me this kind of attention. I never saw him wine and dine a woman. I’m not an idiot; I know he slept around, but he never had to try.

This is him trying.

For me.

I sigh deeply before burning-hot anticipation courses through me.

I don’t know if I’ll make it through this night unscathed, and honestly, I don’t want to.

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