“A gift for our date.”
Eagerly, I yanked the tissue paper out to reveal two books.
“One is a memoir from an upstate New York cheese maker who started out casually making cheese in his kitchen and grew it into a thriving business selling around his region and community. The other is a debut fantasy novel by an author in Burlington. It had good reviews.”
“This is incredibly thoughtful. Thank you,” I said with deep sincerity. I wasn’t sure if this was his version of gifting a date flowers or if it had something to do with his plans for the evening.
“You’re welcome. Excited for our adventure?” Amos’s voice was full of anticipation as he backed out of my driveway.
“I am. You going to tell me what we’re doing?”
“Nope,” he said happily.
I laughed. “All right.”
“About Tuesday?—”
“Can we talk about?—”
He briefly took his eyes off the road to smile at me. “You go first.”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “I was hoping we could talk about what Bo said. I don’t know about you, but to me, things have felt off, I guess, since then.”
Amos blew out a breath. “Me too. I want to be pissed at him, but I can’t.” He turned onto a road heading away from Maplewood. A night out in another town where we didn’t have to worry about prying eyes or nosy bloggers? Yes, please.
“Same. From a business perspective, I’m thrilled about the attention on Red’s, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. I haven’t seen my dad this happy about something in years.” We’d never had a lot of financial wiggle room at the diner, and I suspected Dad’s finances were the same. My parents had never been great about hiding their financial issues, so as a kid, I’d taken on that burden too. Especially when they had to pay off Matty’s medical bills after he passed. “But I’m just so tired of putting the diner before everything else.” Before my own happiness.
The lunch I’d scarfed down between customers hours ago soured in my stomach. I felt like the world’s shittiest son for admitting that aloud, but I was so damn grateful to Amos for giving me space to do it. He wouldn’t judge me for it.
“You might as well be reading my mind.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s not fair.” Amos glanced at me quickly before making a turn toward Montpelier. “There’s something special here, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said sincerely. “That’s why I’m feeling so resentful. Instead of having the challenge of figuring our shit outlike anyone else, it’s like we have the weight of the town and our families’ livelihoods on our shoulders. No pressure.”
Amos squeezed my leg before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “Let’s take it one day at a time and worry about things as they come. We don’t need to know the future, but I like spending time with you, and I want to keep doing it. Even if that means leaving town for dates or spending our time at your place.”
“That works for me.” There was one more thought niggling in my mind. “What about Bo and what he said about us? I understand why he’s concerned, but…” I’d given it a lot of thought, and if any of my other friends had gotten together, I’d have probably said the same thing to them. But for all Bo knew, his words could’ve killed whatever was germinating between Amos and me, like tromping through a field of wildflowers just bursting through the topsoil in early spring.
“But he shouldn’t have said anything. Not in that moment, anyway. He was as caught off guard as us, and I know he’s coming from a place of valid concern. That said, there are no guarantees. We’re mature enough to try not to hurt each other, no matter what happens. And look at us communicating like adults.” He grinned. “Bo would be proud.”
As I laughed, I relaxed into the seat, feeling so much lighter having gotten that conversation out of the way. Now we could have a great first date.
Our conversation seamlessly shifted into lighter topics like our favorite towns to visit in the area and our first big driving adventures when we’d gotten our licenses. I enjoyed filling in the gaps in my patchy knowledge of Amos from over the years.
Best of all, we didn’t talk about the diners the rest of the drive, and hopefully not again for the rest of the night. I wanted to be on a date with the cute and thoughtful guy I was falling hard for, without the rest of the baggage crowding us.
We crossed over the Winooski River and passed by the Vermont State House with its gold dome and a lit Christmas tree in front of the stately white pillars. Amos turned onto Main Street, where most buildings were federal style in shades of beige and terra cotta with either painted or brick exteriors. The rain had eased up, but the droplets the windshield wipers couldn’t reach gave a bokeh effect to the warm-white lights hanging from leafless trees and shop windows.
“Score!” Amos turned on his blinker—traffic politeness was as sexy as being kind to servers—and waited for an SUV to finish reversing out of a spot in front of a popular wine bar I’d visited a time or two.
I’d been so distracted by the charming garland and wine-themed ornaments hanging in the windows that I hadn’t noticed the sign near the entrance that readSilent Book Club: Tonight at 7!
“Silent book club?” I gave him a questioning look.
He reached into the back seat and retrieved a book from one of my favorite high fantasy series. “Ever been to one?”
“What is it?”
“Everyone brings a book and reads. No talking.”
