Page 97 of One Timer With A Wingman

“She’ll be fine. If one of the freshies gets into her space, Mack will put them in their place,” he assures.

“I know.”

“Let’s go have dinner, yeah?”

I get up and take Atlas with me. He has light hair and his eyes are a mix of green and blue. He’s growing so fast.

“Mom and Dad want to come by this weekend. Maybe they can stay with Atlas for a couple of hours and we can go out somewhere,” Aaron suggests.

“That sounds perfect. I haven’t been out of the house all month. I could use some fresh air,” I say.

“Perfect.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

Aaron

Mom and Dad are watching Atlas. Briar pumped some bottles of milk, so we have a good three to four hours before we have to be back at the house. Annie got back to Briar yesterday and said that a two-bedroom condo was coming available in November. We took it and now we are spending our last month in the hockey house, which seems like the end of an era, even if I am excited to be living alone with Briar.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“It’s a surprise,” I say to her. It’s a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining, and the weather is about sixty-eight degrees.

“Okay,” she replies, but she seems confused since I’ve driven away from Riverside. “I’m nervous about leaving Atlas. Don’t get me wrong. I know your parents are going to take amazing care of him, I just feel. . .”

“You’re having separation anxiety,” I say. “I read about it and it’s normal.”

“Have you read about every stage of Atlas’s development?” She giggles.

“Maybe.” I wince as I drive out into the country. I want to head away from campus for what I have planned because we need some privacy.

“You’re being very mysterious,” she comments.

“Mystery is good in a relationship,” I reply, looking out to the road. The leaves are starting to change color. We head out to a national park along Lake Superior’s shoreline.

“Isn’t it too cold to go swimming?” she asks.

“Ah, you’re fishing for information,” I accuse.

“Can you blame me? It looks like we are headed to nowhereland,” she says.

We drive into a parking lot. It isn’t very busy here, which is what I researched when I planned this little day trip.

I park the car and take the basket Mom packed out of the trunk. I take Briar’s hand and we walk down a path. There’s a dog park off to the right, which seems a little busy, but as we head down the trail some more, we end up on a strip of beach which is completely isolated. I lay out a blanket.

“I know it isn’t time for sunrise but I thought it would be relaxing for us to watch the waves together and have a little picnic. I figured you might freak out if I asked you to leave Atlas in the middle of the night, and the truth is, I would probably freak out too,” I confess.

She caresses my cheek. “This is the perfect date.”

“Date, yes, it’s definitely a date.”

I set the basket in the corner of the blanket and we take a seat side by side.

“It’s pretty here,” she notes.

“Not as pretty as the ocean in Punta Cana,” I say. “What do you think of going back there over Christmas?”

“You would want to be away from your parents on the holiday?” she asks, surprised.

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