Tequila Rose by Willow Winters (any book recommendations .TXT) 📗

“Just promise you’ll come to visit before you decide to be up in arms about me moving down here. I’ll even unpack and stop living out of my luggage bags for you.” The humorous huff is as good as I’m going to get. I know it.

The sound of Griffin opening up a window in the far right corner comes with an immediate gust of saltwater air. I fucking love it. I take deep breaths in and out as my mother lists all the reasons she can’t come down to visit me and how I need to really think about what I’m doing.

It’s a damn good thing she can’t come down right now, I think, as she keeps talking and I take in the state of this apartment. I figured a three-month lease would work and then once we’re settled, if things go well, I might look for something more permanent. It’s a simple beige space with no furniture other than the foldout chairs and table Griffin brought down from his parents’ basement.

My mother would be livid. Of the list of shit I have to do, though, furniture shopping is low on it. I have a bed in the bedroom at least. A bed and a hot shower are all I need right now.

It takes another ten minutes before my mother sighs and tells me she loves me. Which I knew she would. I’m ever the disappointment to her because I won’t settle down.

The second the phone is lowered, Griffin finishes tapping on his phone, probably writing an email to the graphic designer.

“So I asked Sam, the guy with the sailing boat, and he said we could take it out this Sunday.”

Griffin’s a damn good friend. Whenever I get off these phone calls, he’s right there with a distraction I need.

“I’m down.” It’s easy to say yes to that. It’s one thing I had with my grandfather. Sailing feels like home and Beaufort is one of the coastal sea islands. There’s a ton of sport fishing out here. My grandpa would have loved it.

“He said we can bring dates or whomever if we want. Just to make sure to clean up after.” Griffin’s tone is leading and the beautiful face I pictured only minutes ago at the thought of settling down flashes again in front of me.

Giving him an asymmetric smile, I answer, “I don’t know yet. Let me get through the date this Friday first? Or did you want me to ask my girl if her friend wanted to come along and hang out with you?”

“Your girl now?” he asks with a raised brow.

I shrug and say, “You know what I mean.” Leaning back in the flimsy chair, I pick up the pile of papers Griffin tossed aside, making sure the option I picked is really the one. I’m relying on a gut feeling, an instinct to go with it. I’ve followed that instinct all my life and it hasn’t screwed me over yet.

“I mean … if all is well, I’m just thinking it might be a nice second date, is all. And yeah, I think you should invite her friend too.”

“If it goes well and she’s interested, yeah, I’ll ask her,” I tell Griffin as he scratches the back of his neck. With his black plastic-framed glasses and slight build, he’s always had a little bit of the nerd side to him. He’s a good guy, though, and good looking just the same. He should have the confidence to ask Renee to go out with him. Maybe it’s just weird for him since I’m seeing her friend. That’s uncharted territory for us.

Slapping the final design, the one I’m dead set on, upon the top of the pile, I hand it back to Griffin, who’s already nodding. “Yeah. This is the one.”

“Damn right it is,” I say and get up to grab a Coke from the fridge. “You want one?” I ask Griffin.

“Nah,” he says and shakes his head, but he looks uneasy.

“You ready to go?” I ask, shutting the fridge door before I can grab a can. With the blinds rolled up, the sun’s given this place enough illumination that I hadn’t flipped a light switch on yet today, but now that evening is coming, I turn on the single light in the kitchen and living room.

“I have something else to tell you … Sam had a little intel on your girl.”

“I told you I don’t want to know. I’m not looking into her or asking anything other than if she’s single.” I meant it when I told her we were starting fresh.

“You might want to know this.” His fingers tap anxiously on the edge of the computer, folded shut in his lap.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” I say casually, grabbing the beverage so my back is to him when he says, “She’s got a daughter.”

I pause in the middle of opening the can, letting the news sink in and then ask the necessary question, “But she’s single?”

“Yes.”

“And the dad? Is he in the picture or still have feelings or something?”

“Nope,” he says and shakes his head, “she’s a single parent.”

I never thought I’d feel an easiness come over me at that statement. The can fizzes in my hand and I take a drink, really thinking about it. A miniature Magnolia. She’s probably a cute kid. That’s when it hits me.

“I bet that’s why she freaked. She’s a mom now, she can’t be running around and having flings.”

Damn. I rub the back of my neck but a smile creeps on my face. “That makes so much sense now. And her friend’s all protective because of the kid.” I’m practically muttering and thinking out loud at this point, but Griffin still hears