The Acceptance
Page 25
“She’s humbled.”
“She is. And she’s right where she wants to be.”
“I think that’s a wonderful place to be. You’re very lucky to have an idea of what you want to do.”
“We’ll see,” he chuckled. “I’ve never been one to have a long term plan. I suppose I just always assumed BBH is where I’d end up.”
“It speaks volumes that your father would let you do whatever you wanted.”
His hand moved over hers in a gentle stroke. “What do you do?”
“Me? Oh, well that would depend on who you ask. My father would say I take care of my mother. My mother would say her job is to take care of me. I’d like to say I was a writer.”
She felt him shift. “No kidding?” His voice rose in pitch. “I think that’s very cool.”
“You do?”
“Yes. What do you write?”
“Well,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve written a lot of short stories. I write a blog, which no one but Fitz knew about.”
“What kind a blog.”
“The Blind Girl Diary. I write about the world of darkness from my perspective. I’ve done some series on how the blind are treated in restaurants, how people nearly fall over themselves when you go to a movie theater, and how I’d love to have a service dog as much for having help as companionship.”
“Why don’t you have one?”
“Remember, my mother thinks it’s her job to guide me. I don’t really need an actual service dog. There are a lot of people who need them. But a dog in general would be fun.”
“How many followers do you have on this blog of yours?”
“Four thousand.”
The car turned and she heard him laugh. “That’s a lot of people.”
“I suppose. Someday I’d like to write articles. Maybe I’ll be a published author someday. I’ve thought about writing books for young girls who are blind. You tend to go through a huge phase of assuming you’re ugly since you can’t see how your hair looks. You have to learn that it’s how you feel that matters.”
A moment later the car came to a stop. “We’re here.” She heard him turn in his seat and could feel the shift of his breath and knew he was facing her. She turned. “What about writing articles about charities? Interviews. Press releases? Do you think you could do that?”
A smile was tugging on the corners of her mouth. “You want me write about your aunt’s organization?”
“Yeah. What if we got some media attention? Did some interviews with some of the women who she’s helped? Get your name out there and find you four thousand more subscribers to your blog?”
A laugh burst from her. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.” His hand came to her cheek and she reached for it. “Courtney, I don’t know what this all is—these feelings I’m having. But I don’t think there is much I wouldn’t do for you.”
He eased her toward him and his lips came to hers.
As he pulled away she sucked in a breath. “I’m never going to see again.”
“Why did you say that?”
“If you continue to want to be with me your life won’t be everyday normal. My house has to be spotless or I’ll get hurt. I can never drive to meet you anywhere. I sometimes put my shirt on backward,” she thought of her mother’s comments. “I have days where I get very depressed that I can’t see the sunsets, the flowers bloom, or how my hair looks in the mirror. I’m a lot of work.”
“You’re a lot of wonderful which I need in my life. If you’re trying to make me change my mind it won’t work. If you don’t want to be with me because of all that, then fine. You make that decision. None of that fazes me. I’m done running from things I can’t control, Courtney. It wasn’t my style when I did it. Now, I’d like to take you into my house, which I hope is clean enough, and make you some dinner.”
She let herself smile. “Thank you.”
“No need. I want to see how far you’re going to try to push me. Something down in my gut tells me you can’t make me run. I like you an awful lot.”
His body moved and he opened his door. She sat a moment until he opened hers. It had only been a few days, but she knew what was brewing inside of her. She was scared to death of it, but it was there. She’d let it brew longer until she faced it. But she was fairly sure she was falling in love with this man she’d once thought smelled good—he was so much more.
Chapter Fourteen
The house smelled freshly cleaned and Courtney wondered if that had been what he’d done all day.
“This is the living room. The kitchen is just through here,” he said as he led her behind the couch and to the kitchen. “The bathroom and laundry room are just down the hall. Bedrooms are upstairs and the basement is a separate apartment. I didn’t realize the house was this small until I tried to explain it.”
She smiled, feeling the grip of his hand pressed against hers. “And how many of you would live here at a time?”
“I guess at the most there were three of us. Clara and Christian lived upstairs, and I lived downstairs.” He chuckled. “It’s been a blessing that my aunt kept this house. It has come in handy.”
“I think that’s awesome. Sort of a family tradition.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” They walked further into the house and she heard him pull out a chair. “Here, have a seat. I’m going to start on dinner.”
“I can help you.”
“Oh, don’t think you won’t.” He kissed her on the cheek. “But how about a glass of wine while I get it all pulled out?”
“I’d like that.” She sat down in the chair. “So, you only have one brother?”
“Yes. Spencer. We’re almost a year and a half apart.”
“You’ve never known your life without him?”
“Right. He and our cousin Avery were born on the same day only minutes, or hours apart. I really don’t remember. But they share the same birthday.”
She laughed. “That’s unique. I know you’ve told me you have a big family, but how many cousins do you have?”
He hummed and she knew he was thinking. “Only four. My father is an only child, so there are no cousins on that side.”
“She is. And she’s right where she wants to be.”
“I think that’s a wonderful place to be. You’re very lucky to have an idea of what you want to do.”
“We’ll see,” he chuckled. “I’ve never been one to have a long term plan. I suppose I just always assumed BBH is where I’d end up.”
“It speaks volumes that your father would let you do whatever you wanted.”
His hand moved over hers in a gentle stroke. “What do you do?”
“Me? Oh, well that would depend on who you ask. My father would say I take care of my mother. My mother would say her job is to take care of me. I’d like to say I was a writer.”
She felt him shift. “No kidding?” His voice rose in pitch. “I think that’s very cool.”
“You do?”
“Yes. What do you write?”
“Well,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve written a lot of short stories. I write a blog, which no one but Fitz knew about.”
“What kind a blog.”
“The Blind Girl Diary. I write about the world of darkness from my perspective. I’ve done some series on how the blind are treated in restaurants, how people nearly fall over themselves when you go to a movie theater, and how I’d love to have a service dog as much for having help as companionship.”
“Why don’t you have one?”
“Remember, my mother thinks it’s her job to guide me. I don’t really need an actual service dog. There are a lot of people who need them. But a dog in general would be fun.”
“How many followers do you have on this blog of yours?”
“Four thousand.”
The car turned and she heard him laugh. “That’s a lot of people.”
“I suppose. Someday I’d like to write articles. Maybe I’ll be a published author someday. I’ve thought about writing books for young girls who are blind. You tend to go through a huge phase of assuming you’re ugly since you can’t see how your hair looks. You have to learn that it’s how you feel that matters.”
A moment later the car came to a stop. “We’re here.” She heard him turn in his seat and could feel the shift of his breath and knew he was facing her. She turned. “What about writing articles about charities? Interviews. Press releases? Do you think you could do that?”
A smile was tugging on the corners of her mouth. “You want me write about your aunt’s organization?”
“Yeah. What if we got some media attention? Did some interviews with some of the women who she’s helped? Get your name out there and find you four thousand more subscribers to your blog?”
A laugh burst from her. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.” His hand came to her cheek and she reached for it. “Courtney, I don’t know what this all is—these feelings I’m having. But I don’t think there is much I wouldn’t do for you.”
He eased her toward him and his lips came to hers.
As he pulled away she sucked in a breath. “I’m never going to see again.”
“Why did you say that?”
“If you continue to want to be with me your life won’t be everyday normal. My house has to be spotless or I’ll get hurt. I can never drive to meet you anywhere. I sometimes put my shirt on backward,” she thought of her mother’s comments. “I have days where I get very depressed that I can’t see the sunsets, the flowers bloom, or how my hair looks in the mirror. I’m a lot of work.”
“You’re a lot of wonderful which I need in my life. If you’re trying to make me change my mind it won’t work. If you don’t want to be with me because of all that, then fine. You make that decision. None of that fazes me. I’m done running from things I can’t control, Courtney. It wasn’t my style when I did it. Now, I’d like to take you into my house, which I hope is clean enough, and make you some dinner.”
She let herself smile. “Thank you.”
“No need. I want to see how far you’re going to try to push me. Something down in my gut tells me you can’t make me run. I like you an awful lot.”
His body moved and he opened his door. She sat a moment until he opened hers. It had only been a few days, but she knew what was brewing inside of her. She was scared to death of it, but it was there. She’d let it brew longer until she faced it. But she was fairly sure she was falling in love with this man she’d once thought smelled good—he was so much more.
Chapter Fourteen
The house smelled freshly cleaned and Courtney wondered if that had been what he’d done all day.
“This is the living room. The kitchen is just through here,” he said as he led her behind the couch and to the kitchen. “The bathroom and laundry room are just down the hall. Bedrooms are upstairs and the basement is a separate apartment. I didn’t realize the house was this small until I tried to explain it.”
She smiled, feeling the grip of his hand pressed against hers. “And how many of you would live here at a time?”
“I guess at the most there were three of us. Clara and Christian lived upstairs, and I lived downstairs.” He chuckled. “It’s been a blessing that my aunt kept this house. It has come in handy.”
“I think that’s awesome. Sort of a family tradition.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” They walked further into the house and she heard him pull out a chair. “Here, have a seat. I’m going to start on dinner.”
“I can help you.”
“Oh, don’t think you won’t.” He kissed her on the cheek. “But how about a glass of wine while I get it all pulled out?”
“I’d like that.” She sat down in the chair. “So, you only have one brother?”
“Yes. Spencer. We’re almost a year and a half apart.”
“You’ve never known your life without him?”
“Right. He and our cousin Avery were born on the same day only minutes, or hours apart. I really don’t remember. But they share the same birthday.”
She laughed. “That’s unique. I know you’ve told me you have a big family, but how many cousins do you have?”
He hummed and she knew he was thinking. “Only four. My father is an only child, so there are no cousins on that side.”
