Page 103 of Deceitful Oath
“Needs some new paint,” Rafael jokes when we file back inside and encounter the broken staircase.
“Original features,” the owner snaps rudely. “Wouldn’t expect a couple of city kids to appreciate it.”
Rafael and I quickly glance at each other, both of us silently screamingbad vibes.We thank the owner and quickly scuttle out of the home, practically running to the car. As we slam our doors shut, we both burst out laughing.
“You know how every horror movie from the 2000s starts in a small town with a creepy dude in a farmhouse?” I ask, gasping for breath.
“Let’s save the horror movie jokes for once we’re off his property, okay?” he laughs, peeling out of the driveway.
We joke about the experience during the short ride to town and park on the main road. It’s a quaint, charming street with adorable shops and eateries. Wooden signs, pastel colors, and flowerboxes make it look like an old Americana painting.
I’m in love. This is the perfect place to raise a child. Nothing like the gritty streets of the city.
I point out an adorable cafe with a small outdoor patio. It’s partly covered with a pergola dripping in wisteria, making it so picturesque that it looks like a movie set. We make our way over, snagging the last table and then we pore over the menu.
“You like this place,” Rafael says softly, studying my face.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re glowing so much that you’re blinding the other patrons,” he jokes. “Quick, pull out the sunglasses.”
“You’re really stepping into your new role with the dad jokes, you know that?” I laugh, swatting him with the menu. “What do you think about the sun-dried tomato chicken sandwich?”
“I think you’re more delicious,” he whispers in my ear, subtly kissing my neck. I melt a little inside, bursting with love and happiness at having found Rafael, no matter how difficult and dangerous it was.
We place our orders with the waiter and lean back in our seats to people-watch. Parents stroll down the street, letting their kids run ahead of them without a worry. A group of elderly men play chess in the public park. High-schoolers duck in and out of shops, giggling together.
“What do you think about an orange grove?” he says suddenly, breaking the reverie.
“Like…politically or in general?”
“Politically?” he glances at me, confused. He shakes his head in mock exhaustion. “How can you even have something against orange groves politically? You know what, never mind…just in general.”
“In general,” I pause dramatically, grinning up at him. “I like them.”
“Would you like to get married in one?”
“To whom?”
“Lux,” he warns, shooting me a dark look.
“Oooh, to you?” I bat my eyelashes, playing the part of a schoolgirl with a crush.
“I’m serious,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and shaking his head. I laugh at his fake annoyance, snuggling up closer to him.
“I mean, I’d love to, but why an orange grove?”
“We drove by one on the way here,” he shrugs. “It was beautiful. Reminded me of you…with the sunshine and sweetness and all.”
“Aww, Wolfie,” I gush, placing a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek. “That’s so disgustingly sweet. I love that idea!”
“Whatever,” he grumbles, his cheeks on fire. “Just thought it’d be nice.”
Once the food arrives, we get down to discussing logistics. We both agree that Willowdale is the perfect place, at least for a few years. Who knows what will happen in the future, but right now, it’s a great backdrop for Bean’s childhood.
“How are you going to manage, though?” I wonder, keeping my eyes on my food. “With your…work?”
I’ve been wanting to ask him this question ever since we started discussing the possibility of moving out of the city. Even though we checked out a few houses within the city limits last weekend, none of them felt right.