JENNIE
It's Friday night at the Manoban household, and in many ways, things are business as usual. The dishwasher is humming, washing the dinner dishes while I wipe down the counters. Meanwhile, Lisa and Lauren are settled into their usual spot on the living room carpet, surrounded by her favorite selection of G.I. Joes. The same as every other Friday that's come and gone this summer.
But there's one little detail about tonight that's not so ordinary—tonight, I'm not here as the nanny. I'm here as Lisa's girlfriend, and we have a date planned for this evening. Meaning, unlike every other Friday this summer, there's a brand-new babysitter sitting on the floor across from Lalisa, getting the full rundown on bedtime routines and house rules.
"Are you sure you can handle this?" Lisa asks for what has to be the hundredth time. "Do you need me to run through emergency contacts again?"
Hanbin rolls his eyes, resituating Lauren in his lap. "Which part don't you think I can handle? The part where I'm put solely in charge of a two-year-old, or the part where my best friend is dating my sister?" There's a smirk on his lips, and I have to suppress my own laugh.
He's right, though. We snagged the best babysitter in the greater Wilmington area, second only to me, of course. My brother is no professional nanny, but any man who can swiftly handle a crowd of drunks at last call can certainly handle watching a toddler for an hour or two.
"Both, I guess," Liaa says, lifting a shoulder. "But I was referring to Lauren."
"She'll be fine, honey," I whisper, stepping carefully through the minefield of G.I. Joes to give Lisa's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, these two have a ton in common. They're both stubborn, and they're both experts at giving us a hard time."
"Exactly!" Hanbin gives us a huge grin. "This babysitting thing is kid stuff. Literally. Play with some G.I. Joes, make sure she gets her teeth brushed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy."
"Sure," I say, trying to restrain my sarcasm. "We'll see if you're still saying that after your fourth read of Dragons Play Dodgeball."
At the mention of her favorite story, Lauren perks up, her wide eyes flickering with excitement. "Dwagons?"
Lisa and I exchange a quick, knowing look and an equally knowing laugh. I think we both could recite that book forward and backward at this point.
"No dragons yet, love bug." Lisa scoops Lauren up from Hanbin's lap, planting a good-bye kiss on her plump cheek. "It's not quite bedtime. You've got to drive Uncle Hanbin crazy for another hour first."
She sets her back down on the carpet, and as if totally understanding the drive Hanbin crazy suggestion, she immediately grabs Flapflap and lobs him straight at Hanbin's head.
"Holy sh—shoelaces." Hanbin barely catches himself, rubbing the point of impact above his ear. "What the heck was that for?"
"Flapflap flies!" Lauren shrieks, reaching for the plush bat again, and whips it his way a second time. This time, Hanbin has the foresight to duck.
A chuckle rumbles low in Lisa's chest as she pushes to her feet. "If you hadn't noticed, my daughter may have a future as a pitcher."
"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky you're cute," Hanbin grumbles, ruffling Lauren's hair, then gestures to the two of us. "And you two are lucky you're so cute together, or else this would be a whole lot weirder."
A relieved smile pulls at my lips. Coming from my brother, that's a glowing endorsement. "Thanks, Hanbin." I reach for Lisa's hand, and she pulls our interlaced fingers to her lips, brushing a soft kiss against my knuckles.
"Yeah, yeah." Hanbin cringes, waving the two of us off toward the door. "Just because I approve of it doesn't mean I'm ready to see you two being all couple-y yet. Go do that somewhere else, all right?"
With one last round of good-bye kisses for Lauren and final instructions for Hanbin, we're out the door, and date night has officially begun. I can hardly believe it.
Lisa presses her key fob twice, unlocking her car in the driveway, but still insists on opening the door for me.
I slide into the warm leather interior, and instantly, everything feels right with the world. It only took ten years, but I've finally ended up back where I'm supposed to be—windows down, fiddling with the radio as Lalisa Manoban's designated shotgun rider. She has a much nicer car than she had back then, and we're older now, but the way my heart squeezes in my chest with one look at her hasn't changed a bit.
With one hand draped over the steering wheel, Lisa slides on her sunglasses and speeds out of the driveway toward the beach, racing the sun that's sinking lower in the sky.
"We're going to make it just in time for sunset," she says over the sound of wind whipping past our open windows, her smile reaching all the way up to her aviators.
"Let's make sure we don't get pulled over for speeding first," I say, teasing.
She reaches across the console to give my thigh a squeeze, but instead of pulling away, she leaves her hand resting on my thigh, her thumb brushing against the hem of my sundress and tracing slow easy circles on my skin. "If we get pulled over, I'll just tell them the truth."
"Which is?"
"Officer, I'm rushing so my girlfriend and I can see the sunset."
A laugh bubbles out of me at her dumb excuse for speeding, but it doesn't slow the blush spreading across my cheeks. I can't help it. Every time she uses the g-word around me, I'm as giddy as the first time she asked me out, all those years ago on my parents' couch.
Lisa slows to the speed limit as we approach our destination—the ice cream shop on Wilmington Beach. She ran a dozen date ideas past me this week, but it only felt right to come back to the place where it all began. The line curves out the door, which isn't out of the ordinary for a slightly cooler summer night like tonight, but I don't mind the wait. It gives Lisa and me plenty of time to reminisce on the nights we used to spend here way back when.
"Remember that time you dropped your ice cream in the sand the second we stepped out of here?" She gives my side a playful squeeze, and my mouth quirks up in an easy smile at the memory.
"I sure do. You turned around, went right back up to the counter, and bought me another one. Like the gentlewoman you are."
She pauses for a moment, her brow furrowed, then snaps her fingers. "One scoop double-chocolate fudge, one scoop of cookies and cream. Right?"
"No way. You remember my exact order?"
A proud, wide smile breaks across her face. "Of course I do. I don't forget the important stuff."
"I'm not sure my ice cream order qualifies as important," I say with an eye roll, but she just shakes her head in protest.
"I strongly disagree. I think everything about you is important."
When it's our turn at the counter, Lisa repeats my order to the teenage girl wielding the ice cream scoop, adding on a double scoop of strawberry ice cream for herself. The same as Lauren's order when I brought her here, if my memory serves me. Like dada, like daughter.
In exchange for our two sugar cones, Lisa pulls a crisp fifty-dollar bill from her wallet and hands it to the girl behind the counter, insisting she keep the change. She's just as wide-eyed with disbelief as I am, but Lisa laces her fingers with mine and tugs us out of line before any of us can get another word in.
"That was quite the tip," I murmur as we stroll out the door and toward the beach. It's a gorgeous night, the gentlest breeze barely stirring the sand beneath our feet. Nights like this only come around once or twice a summer here in Wilmington. I guess even Mother Nature is on our side tonight.
"I always feel bad for teenagers working those kinds of jobs," Lisa says. "We were young, broke high schoolers once too, you know?"
I nod. "I remember all too well."
"I spent so many years working those minimum-wage jobs, and now that I'm lucky enough to be doing as well as I am, I might as well spread the love around a bit." She pauses to take a generous lick of her ice cream. "Who knows? Maybe that ice-cream scooper girl will be the next big thing in real estate."
"Yeah, Like you? The Penthouse Princess," I say, grinning.
Lisa chuckles, weaving one arm around my waist and pulling me in for a soft strawberry-flavored kiss. "Actually, that role is filled, thank you very much."
As the sun inches toward the horizon, we wander down the beach, our fingers intertwined, laughing and kissing until both the daylight and the ice cream are gone. It's the epitome of a perfect night, the kind of night I'd like to relive for the rest of the summer.
And I just might.
In fact, I might spend the rest of my summers like this from here on out. I may have let Lalisa Manoban slip away from me when she was just a girl, but she's a woman now, and I don't plan to ever let her go.
We find our way back to the car, placing bets the whole ride home as to whether Hanbin will be passed out on the couch. Lisa insists that she'll be wide awake and raiding the fridge for sloppy joe leftovers, but I'm not so sure.
Turns out, we're both right—when we get home, we find him snoozing on the living room sectional, a cold, half-eaten sloppy joe on the coffee table.
I gently shake him, and he startles awake, muttering something about Dinky the Dragon catching the ball. Yep, somebody has been introduced to Lauren's favorite board book.
"Toddlers, man," he grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand while digging his keys from his pocket with the other.
Once we've shooed Hanbin out the door, we tiptoe up the stairs and peer through Lauren's cracked door to check on our Sleeping Beauty. Despite his bemoaning how tough tonight was, Hanbin seems to have done a pretty good job. Lauren is sleeping soundly in her favorite ladybug pajamas, her little chest rising and falling with easy breaths.
"God," Lisa says softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm related to that angel."
"And I can't believe I get to be her mom."
I press up on my toes, brushing my lips against her cheek. Lisa holds me there, steadying one firm hand against the small of my back as she captures my lips in a longer, deeper kiss, the kind that sends quick pulses of heat shooting through my veins. It's the kind of kiss that maybe we shouldn't engage in with her daughter ten feet away, even if she is asleep.
Lisa must be thinking the same thing, because the next thing I know, she's scooping me into her arms, swallowing my surprised gasp with her lips as she carries me into her bedroom and drapes me delicately across the end of her bed.
"God, you're beautiful." She stares down at me with wonder as her fingers work open the buttons of her shirt, exposing her tanned, chiseled chest to me one inch at a time. "But I think I lied to you before."
I freeze, my eyes narrowing to slits as I assess the wicked smile settling on her lips. "What do you mean?"
"You're not the penthouse princess," she says with a growl, tossing her shirt aside and pinning me against the bed. Her breath is hot and hungry against my neck as she trails her lips along my collarbone, leaving little chill bumps in her wake. "You, my dear, are the penthouse queen."
And with that, I'm lost in her. In her words and her heat and her hungry, demanding lips.
I want her. Tonight and every night.
For the rest of my life.