“Good. Tomorrow night – six p.m. – I’ll come get you so we can bring overtwoboxes of your things instead of just one.”
“Sounds like a date,” she whispered, and he melted. Gosh, what was it about this girl that made his soul purr like a kitten?
“Get some sleep and no more worries. You are not alone, and we’re gonna figure everything out together, one step at a time,” he promised and saw the flicker of something in her eyes. “Let me in and trust me – that’s the first step, Steffi.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
They said their goodbyes again – and he sighed, before flipping back over to the text messages that had finally gone silent with his family.
Add Steffi to the group this weekend. She’s been under a lot of stress - and she’s moving in.
Drake – you better marry that girl before she moves in with you. None of my babies are living in sin, young man – and I am not too old to tan your backside…
He chuckled, smiling softly at his mom’s sweet old-fashioned heart. She wanted the best for all of them and believed marriage could fix a great many things.
That’s the plan, Mama… I promise!
13
STEFFI
Nervously, Steffi packed one tote with her things and had just started on the second one when Drake knocked on the front door. Glancing at the microwave, she saw he was early. Walking to the front door, she opened it – and immediately was whisked around, spinning like a merry-go-round… and saw his precious smile.
“Drake…” she began, and he cut her off quickly.
“Look at that – I’ve graduated from usage of the degrading ‘D’ words to my actual name,” he joked and then dipped her. There, in the middle of the entryway that led into the nearly empty living room, her neighbor – her once fake fiancée – dipped her boldly, and she squirmed.
“You’re gonna drop me…”
“Trust is hard for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to focus on that before the dancing because one is much better than the other – despite the clodhoppers,” he chuckled softly, lifting her. “Better?”
“I don’t know – are we? Or were you talking about the dancing?”
“Steffi…”
“Yes,” she whispered nervously, looking at him as he stopped playing around and stood still before her, still holding her hand as if he wanted to touch her, to be there. “I still feel bad for freaking out and lashing out at you.”
“Hey,” he said gently, releasing her hand and cupping her chin, making her look at him. “I want you to listen to me and pay attention to what I’m about to say – everyone has a bad day, and when you get cornered, feel threatened, or feel like you are gonna scream your head off… I, your soon-to-be husband, am the one person in this universe that it’s safe to unload all of your frustrations upon,” he told her, his eyes searching and holding hers. “Got me?”
She nodded and hesitated. “I still feel bad.”
“Good,” he smirked, “because that was terrible on my nerves thinking that I’d pissed you off. I don’t like that feeling – at all.”
“Why?”
“Do you need me to label it?” he offered, his voice hushed between them, and she realized that she didn’t. It was just three little words, and he’d done more than enough to prove there was something wonderful there between them. “If you need to hear it…”
“No,” she interrupted softly – and he turned her face back to him.
“I would tell you,” he whispered thickly, swallowing before her. “But I’d rather that we trusted each other, believed in each other, and just let it grow between us without needing to define whatever this is. In a whole patch of grass, a weed will still flower when it’s finally its time to shine.”
“Are you calling me a weed – and seriously? Grass analogies?”