His eyes were sincere and I couldn't help but feel a softness in my heart for my own father. I had looked into his eyes many times, but this time they were different. His usual glassy eyes, which almost stayed at a permanent stare, were now normal. I could have sworn there appeared to be a look of life in them, a fire. I had wanted him to be a part of my life, and I meant really be a part of my life for so long. Grammy was fantastic but it wasn't the same as having your father. I feared I would always have that yearning.
“Better late than never.” He smirked and made a joke of it, really getting under my skin.
“Yeah, Dad. Better late than never. Look, I have to get back to work. I’m covering for Frank who has been out ill. Do you want to do dinner or something later in the week or this weekend?”
“Sure.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek and then started out the front door. “I’ll call you later in the week.”
“Sounds good, Breigh.”
Something was definitely up, but I had no idea what. What was wrong with me for thinking there was an ulterior motive?
Because I knew my father.
My father had never done anything unless it was for himself. And him getting sober was not for himself. He loved to drink far too much.
WYATT
Wyatt: I know we just spent time together at your grandmother’s, but I would love to see you again. You free?
Breigh: For you.
Wyatt: Okay, Friday?
Breigh: Sure. Pick me up at my house? 251 South Main.
Wyatt: I’ll be there at 6:00.
Breigh: Looking forward to it. xoxo
Breigh agreeing to dinner was a win for me. I thought after dinner, depending on how the meal went, I would drive her past my house. In my mind, I felt I needed to do this simply for the fact I had to make sure she understood who I was, which wasn't going to change. I was who I was, and from past experience, I wanted her to know from the get-go who I was. Breigh had a heart of gold; that I knew. But I had to put this fear to rest.
After the internal debate, I had talked to Rhonda about it and she agreed if that “small” thing was what was holding up my feelings, I should do it. She was positive Breigh wouldn’t care, which made me realize she knew more about her than she had told me.
Unlike most guys, I loved the start of wooing a woman. I had always wanted to give a woman everything she never had, and not in a financial way. My father had done that but he was still a horrible husband. He wasn't about the little things, hence I was. The little things were what mattered to me, and with the right woman, it would matter to her too.
Aunt Rhonda had said Breigh made a pretty good living, but she worked a lot. I still didn’t completely understand what she did, although I was sure it was something that required empathy. My aunt had commented on her kindness when she came to her house, putting her at ease.
I sat in my truck, a 1979 Chevrolet Silverado I had restored. It was my uncle’s, who my aunt had adored. I took a deep breath, and gave myself a pep talk. Okay… a little much? I haven't had an “official” date in a couple years, and the last woman I loved cheated on me with my brother. He didn’t know who she was, but she knew exactly who he was.
Standing on her porch before knocking, I looked at her two rocking chairs and a few plants. Some looked like they were blossoming, and others not so much.
The door, a dark navy wood, flew open and Breigh stood before me with a great big smile. She was wearing a dress that complimented her figure, and her blue eyes. Her hair was pulled up and I immediately noticed her neck.
“Breigh.” I handed her a small bundle of daisies I had picked up on the way here. She deserved so much.
“That is so sweet, thank you. You are spoiling me!” She went up on her tippy-toes to place a sweet small kiss on my cheek. That helped to put my nerves at ease.
“Would you like to come in right quick, while I put these in a Mason jar? I’ll be fast.”
I followed her in and closed the door. The smell of her home immediately overtook my senses. It was a small place that had a woman’s touch, her touch. The country style made you immediately feel at home, and the honeysuckle smells made you want to look for the summer sun.
I didn't walk far from the door; not sure I was ready to.
In time.
“Okay, I’m ready!” She grabbed her small leather purse and opened her door again for me.
I led the way to my truck and she followed.
“Nice truck.”
“Thanks.” I had let her in the passenger door and she had seemed shocked I opened the door for her, but she didn't say anything. Just smiled.
“Are you up for Mexican food, Italian, or if you really want to get crazy, we can get some takeout somewhere and go sit up on Roundtop Hill.”
“I…” She looked bothered.
“Oh God no…not for that. Sorry. No.” I cleared my throat. “To just listen to some music and eat so we can actually talk. NOTHING more.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
“This is a marathon not a sprint, right?” I said trying to put her more at ease.
She nodded her head in agreement.
Forty-five minutes later, we were sitting on my tailgate and passing Chinese takeout cartons back and forth. We both liked spicy food, and we picked up a bottle of wine on the way here. I bought the food, she insisted on paying for the wine.
“I have to say, honestly, Wyatt, this is the best
