She stopped and looked up at me. “You don’t like being a lawyer?”
“I do, but when I hear you speak about the love you have for your profession, I realize I don’t feel that—or at least I haven’t for a long time. I remember the feeling from when I first started long ago.”
“What changed?”
“Money.” I shrugged.
She nodded, understanding seeping through her expression. “Noah,” she simply stated.
“Yeah, the curse of a single provider I guess.” My thoughts drifted back to the memory of my little man arguing over whether he needed a babysitter this afternoon. He was adamant that I could trust him to be alone. It was never a matter of trust, but more an issue of my nerves lasting through the ordeal. I knew I would have to give in soon, but in the meantime, he was stuck with a sitter.
We continued our short walk down the street in silence until she asked, “If income wasn’t a factor, what would you do?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I’d probably still be a lawyer, honestly, but I’d focus more around the ideals I value most—family and helping people who need it most.”
“Maybe someday,” she offered as we crossed the street
“Maybe someday,” I agreed.
I slowed down my gait until we came to a stop in front of the soup kitchen. She looked around, taking in the building and small sign.
“Okay, if we’re doing what I think we are, then yes, this is a definite first for me.” Her voice was excited and full of anticipation.
It was exactly what I had hoped it would be.
“How do you feel about doing a little volunteer work?”
“This is awesome, Jackson!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me in a giant hug.
I laughed and lifted her off the ground, loving the feel of her body in my arms.
“Okay, come on. We need to get inside. They start preparing dinner hours in advance.”
For the next few hours, we slaved away in the kitchen—chopping, slicing, and mixing—until our backs ached, and our fingers were ready to fall off. We talked about everything. I told her about what it was like growing up in Charleston, and she reciprocated with stories of growing up in Richmond. She also asked me about Noah. We fell into a natural rhythm. By the time the last onion was cut, we were both exhausted, but it was all worth it when the organizers placed us side by side and allowed us to help serve the meal we’d assisted in preparing.
Liv was in her element, meeting and greeting everyone, even those I’d rather she wouldn’t. She had no fear when it came to people, and she managed to break down even the hardest-looking individuals, earning a smile from them by the time their macaroni and cheese had been dished up.
After we finished, we said good-bye to the other volunteers and thanked the coordinators for letting us participate. Then, we hobbled back to the truck.
I drove us to a quaint little diner not too far from where we lived. We found a booth toward the back where we could rest our feet and not distract others with our awful appearance and funky food odor.
Liv looked over the menu and groaned. “I want all of it, all the food.”
I laughed. “Order whatever you want. I think I’m getting double of everything. I’m starving.”
Our waitress came by and didn’t falter or even raise an eyebrow as I ordered two hamburgers and a double order of fries. Liv stuck with a veggie burger and sweet potato fries, but she added an Oreo milkshake on as a treat.
“You’re sharing that,” I said as the waitress walked away.
“Because your two meals aren’t enough?” she quipped.
“I’m a growing boy.”
“No, you’re not.” She laughed. “But I’ll still share because this has to be the most original and best date I’ve ever been on. Kudos to you, Jackson.”
I mimicked the motions of tipping a hat in her direction. “I wanted to prove to you that I was different.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I know you have…how shall I put this?”
“Been around the block?” she guessed.
I smirked and shook my head. “I was going to say dated a lot, but whatever floats your boat, sweetheart. I’m sure those other men took you out to fancy restaurants and moonlit picnics—believe me, I want to do that, too—but I wanted to show you that I understand you.”
“No one has ever done anything like that for me. It was exhilarating.”
“I knew it would be, because I know you, Liv.”
“How? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and we’ve spent the majority of that time fighting like cats and dogs.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Tell me something about myself, something you’ve learned about me in the last few weeks.”
“Besides the fact that you like pink flamingos?”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, besides that.”
“You’re an incredibly good father. Everything you do revolves around Noah.”
My chest ached, hearing her say those words. I knew it in my own heart, but hearing someone else confirm it meant a lot.
“See? How do you know that after only a few weeks, Liv?”
“Because I know you,” she said softly.
“Exactly. Look, I don’t know what we’re doing. We don’t have to put a label on it. Call it whatever you want, but all I know is, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stick around until there’s nothing new I could possibly learn about you, and even then, I’ll probably still stick around just to annoy you.”
A laugh escaped her throat as the waitress returned with her milkshake. She unwrapped the straw, dropped it in, and stirred it briefly before leaning forward to close her lips around it.
She finished and then pushed it forward. She watched as I took a long sip through the straw.
“This scares me, Jackson,” she said, raw honesty written all over her face.
“Not as much as it scares me.”
“So, what do we do to make sure we both don’t run away in fear?”
“Take each day as it comes and hope that they’re all like this,” I said, pushing the milkshake back to her.
“And if they’re not?”
“Then, we come back here, order an Oreo milkshake, and remember.”
~Liv~
Making the final touches on my long braid, I wrapped the tiny black band around the end and slipped on my sandals before heading to the door. It was Sunday morning, and I was going through the motions of my morning ritual, preparing to make my weekly visit to Mrs. Reid.