Chapter 16: "First Real Date"
1377 Words
The text came at 7:14 AM Friday.
Victor: “So. Dinner tonight. Not in a parking garage. Not takeout. A real date. Say yes, Director Carter.”
I stared at it for 10 minutes while brushing my teeth.
Me: “Is this a CEO order or a Victor question?”
Victor: “Victor question. CEO is terrified you’ll say no.”
Me: “...7 PM?”
Victor: “7 PM. I’ll pick you up. Wear something that makes you happy.”
I immediately called Maya.
“Sally, it’s 7 AM,” she said, voice rough.
“Victor asked me on a date,” I whispered.
There was a pause. Then: “Oh. Oh! Okay. Okay. You’re wearing the black dress from the gala closet. And my heels. I’m coming over.”
45 minutes later Maya was in my apartment with garment bags and opinions.
“Lily,” she said to my daughter, who was eating cereal at the table. “Does your mama look pretty?”
Lily nodded, mouth full. “She looks like a princess. But can we still do movie night after?”
“We’ll do movie night after,” I promised.
By 6:50 PM I was a mess of nerves in black silk and borrowed heels. Lily was at the sitter’s. The apartment was clean.
A knock.
Victor.
Not in a suit. Dark jeans. Black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He was holding flowers. Actual flowers. Not grocery store ones. Peonies.
“You look...” He stopped. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said.
He handed me the peonies. “For you. Not for Director Carter. For Sally.”
I took them and my hands shook. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” he said. “Can I come in for a second? I promise I won’t be weird.”
He came in. Saw Lily’s drawings on the fridge. The small couch. The stack of bills I’d finally been able to pay.
“This is nice,” he said quietly. “It’s home.”
“It is,” I said.
He looked at me then. Really looked. “Ready?”
---
He didn’t take me to some rooftop restaurant.
He took me to the diner.
The one near County General. The one I used to go to on my break when I was mopping floors. Cheap booths. Bad coffee. Pie that tasted like childhood.
I stared at the neon sign. “Victor. This is—”
“My favorite place,” he said. “Because it’s where I saw you for the first time. Three years ago. You were sitting right there, crying over a stack of medical bills. I was in a booth in the back. I didn’t say anything. I should have.”
My chest hurt. “Victor.”
“Can we sit?” he asked.
We took the same booth. He ordered coffee. I ordered pie. Cherry.
For a while we just sat. The waitress didn’t recognize me. That was good.
“Why here?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want fancy,” he said. “I want real. I want the place where you were just... you. Tired and scared and still showing up.”
He reached across the table. Didn’t take my hand. Just rested his near mine.
“I’m nervous,” he admitted.
“You?” I laughed. “Mr. Jackson? Who did a press conference and a gala?”
“Victor,” he corrected. “And yes. Because this is different. This is me asking if you could maybe, possibly, consider letting me take you out again. After tonight.”
The waitress brought the pie. We ate in comfortable silence.
“Okay,” I said finally.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, you can take me out again.”
Victor exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. “But ground rules.”
He groaned. “Already?”
“One: No talking about work after 9 PM. Two: Lily meets you first, always. Three: If this gets weird, we say so. Out loud.”
He nodded. Serious. “Deal. My turn.”
“Okay.”
“One: I’m going to mess this up sometimes. Because I’m still learning how to be... good. Two: I’m not asking you to forgive me all at once. Three: I like you. A lot. And I’m not going to pretend I don’t.”
I felt my face go hot. “That’s not a rule. That’s a confession.”
“Is it working?” he asked, half-smiling.
“Maybe,” I said.
After pie, we walked. The city was cool. October air.
We ended up at the river. The same river from Chapter 10. But tonight there was no rain. Just lights on the water.
Victor stopped at the railing. “Can I ask you something? And you can say no.”
“Okay.”
“Can I kiss you?”
I turned to him. Tired eyes. Honest. No CEO mask. Just Victor.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He didn’t rush. He cupped my face like I was something precious. And he kissed me.
Soft. Slow. Like he was asking permission with every second.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
“It was perfect,” I said.
He smiled. That real smile. “Good.”
We walked back to his car. He drove me home. Didn’t come up.
At my door he said, “Can I see you Sunday? Lily too? Pancakes at my place?”
“Pancakes?” I asked.
“Lily requested them. Said mine are better than the diner’s. Which is probably true.”
I laughed. “Okay. Pancakes.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, Sally.”
“Goodnight, Victor.”
---
Sunday morning. His place.
It wasn’t a penthouse. It was a house. Big, but lived in. Photos everywhere. Lily’s drawings already on the fridge.
Lily was in the kitchen, wearing an apron that said “Junior Chef.” Victor was flipping pancakes. Flour on his cheek.
“Mama!” Lily ran to me. “Mr. Victor let me crack the eggs!”
“Did you now?” I said, hugging her.
Victor turned. “Morning. You sleep okay?”
“I did,” I said. And I meant it.
We ate pancakes. All three of us. Syrup everywhere. Lily told us about school. Victor told a story about burning toast. I told them about Maya’s new dog.
After, Lily went to watch cartoons. Victor and I did dishes.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said, drying a plate.
“I know,” he said. “I wanted to.”
He took the towel from me. Set it down.
“Sally.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not good at this,” he said. “The dating part. The... not being a disaster part.”
“You’re doing fine,” I said.
“I don’t want to mess it up,” he said. “With you. With Lily. With us.”
I stepped closer. “Then don’t. Just... show up. Like you have been.”
He nodded. Then he kissed me again. In his kitchen. With pancake smell in the air.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a movie scene.
It was better. Because it was real.
Later, walking home, Lily held both our hands.
“Mama,” she said. “Can Mr. Victor come to movie night?”
I looked at Victor. He looked at me.
“Yeah, baby,” I said. “He can.”
Victor squeezed my hand. “I’d like that.”
That night, after Lily was asleep, my phone buzzed.
Victor: “Thank you for today. For saying yes. For letting me in.”
Me: “Thank you for pancakes. And for being patient with me.”
Victor: “Always. Sleep well, Director Carter.”
Me: “You too. Victor.”
I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling.
Three years ago I was cleaning his floors.
Tonight I had pancakes in his kitchen.
The future still scared me. But for the first time, I wasn’t scared of it alone.
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