Page 67 of Fall With Me
Chloe mouths, “I’ve got this.”
She puts her hand on Finn’s knee. “Hey, little man. I know you want to have a fun night together, and we will. Your dad is saying we can’t tonight. But why don’t we get your calendar and we’ll find a weekend when it works with both our schedules. We can even make a paper chain to count down the days if you want.”
Finn perks right up. “Can we, Dad?”
Yet again, Chloe comes in with a great idea, preventing a complete meltdown. “Yes, I’ll get the calendar now. We have fall break coming in a few weeks. That might be a good time.”
Going to the kitchen, I snatch the paper calendar off the corkboard I keep by the back door. Flipping the top sheet over, I hand the planner to Chloe. “It’s up to date. If you want to find a time in October that works for you, we can schedule a basement campout.”
Chloe opens her phone, her gaze going between her phone and the paper on her lap. “What do you want to do on our fun night in, Finn?”
Whatever night Chloe picks, we better have a proper date before then. I never imagined having to date again, butespecially not with a kid who hogs all my girlfriend’s time. A sinking feeling in my gut tells me our alone time is going to be harder than ever to come by.
Good thing Finn goes to bed at nine.
Chapter 31
Chloe
As usual, I’m running late. I really need to reschedule when I meet with Mr. Simper. He’s always overly chatty during our Friday afternoon sessions. I feel bad cutting him off mid-conversation because he often gives me a cash bonus at the end of each month—money I use to splurge on shopping trips with Kate. But today, I’d rather skip going out with my best friend next time she asks rather than keep Dawson waiting.
Tonight is our first official real date. No Finn. No festival planning. Just us.
Dawson’s picking me up in forty minutes to grab dinner and go indoor rock climbing. I’m feeling super inadequate and like I don’t know Dawson at all. When it’s my turn to plan for us to go out, what will we do?
Dawson’s a great dad. He’s loyal, kind, has a great sense of humor, and loves with everything he has. But none of those things tell me what hobbies he has. Besides video games, of course. He told me once he liked to go hiking. With fall infull swing, now’s the perfect time to go. The weather is in the upper seventies during the day. The leaves are at their prime color, and the smell of apple cider, pumpkin spice, and campfire permeate the air.
But what about when fall is over? Does he like Christmas? Should all of our dates be focused around upcoming holiday festivities?
I slide my leggings on and a loose T-shirt. Tonight I’m determined to find out more about what Dawson likes and see if he wants to go hiking in Park City next weekend. We can take Finn, if Dawson doesn’t want to be away from him every weekend.
Shoving my running shoe on my foot, the doorbell rings. Nervous and elated flutters flit around in my stomach. Tying off the last loop of my shoelace, I hop up and fling the door open.
His brown eyes look at me with an appreciative smile. My insides turn to goo. “Hey,” I say, opening my door wider.
Dawson steps into my living room. I can’t contain my excitement any longer. Throwing myself at him, I hug him around his neck, my feet coming off the floor as I cling to him. Taking a deep breath in, I relish his fresh, clean scent.
“Whoa, Chlo.” He barely gets his arms around my back before I drop back down. “It’s nice to see you too.” He chuckles.
“Sorry. I might be a little ecstatic that I get you to myself tonight,” I say, squeezing him tighter.
“With a response like this, what if we order takeout and stay in?”
I step back, taking in his broad shoulders. “Would you rather do that?” Is being home more his style?
“I’m tempted.” He glances at my lips, then back to my eyes. The flutters in my belly increase a hundredfold. “But I’ve never been rock climbing before and it looks like a lot of fun.”
“How long do we have before you need to get Finn?” Maybe we can squeeze in both activities.
A slow grin spreads across his lips, making wrinkles appear around his eyes. A twinkle glows in his gaze. “He’s sleeping over at Jackson’s. We have all night.”
My stomach swoops at the news. “Do we, now?” I purr.
Dawson trails a finger across my cheek. “We do.”
I grin flirtatiously at him. “The only remaining question is your place or mine?”
At this, Dawson tears his gaze away from my face, glancing around my living room, taking in my tan couch, rustic coffee table, the leaf and pumpkin garland draped across my TV stand, the flannel blanket folded on the couch, and all the decorative pillows.
