“I wasn’t. I tracked down a special SIM card.”
“Do you have tonight off?” I ask, and Mike shakes his head. He looks like he’s in a hotel room, and I wonder what Indonesian city he’s in, or if I could even pronounce it.
“No, just a few hours,” he says. “But we don’t have any flights or press this morning, so I’m all yours until sound check.”
“Shouldn’t you be out exploring the city? Seeing the sights?” I ask, feeling guilty for keeping him.
“No. I should be taking my girl on our first date.”
He smirks at the blush that hides the faint freckles on my nose, and my cheeks stain even redder at the sexy way his mouth quirks up.
“I’ve missed making you blush,” he says in that irresistible tone of his, laughing when I turn the phone away so he can’t see me fan my cheeks.
When I finally turn the phone back around, the happy look in his deep brown eyes is enough to melt my heart. “Okay,” he says, “pretend I’m opening your door for you, because I’m a gentleman like that.”
I chuckle as I climb out of my car, and when I get to his front door, I use the key he gave me. Inside, he instructs me to go into the kitchen, and I immediately spot the massive bouquet of oversized sunflowers sitting in a pretty crystal vase on the counter.
“These are for you,” he says, as if he’s handing them to me, and my smile is unguarded as I let the sweetness of his gesture make me fall even more in love with him.
“How’d you get these?” I wonder as I brush my fingers over their summery yellow petals, and Mike tells me about a florist he found three towns over.
“They delivered them to Rowan,” he explains, “and she brought them to the house for me since Adam and Shawn left my spare key at their place.”
“I bet Adam and Joel hate you right now,” I say with a laugh, knowing Mike is putting them to shame. They’ve done sweet things for Rowan and Dee—flowers, chocolate, postcards—but nothing like planning a romantic date from ten thousand miles away.
Mike grins. “I’m sleeping with one eye open, trust me.”
When a knock sounds against the front door, I startle and stare wide-eyed at the back of it.
“Dinner,” Mike explains. “I hope you’re hungry.”
I open the door to find a teenage delivery boy standing there with a pizza in his hands. He hands me the warm box, tells me the tip is already covered when I frantically search for money in my pockets, and wishes me a good date.
In Mike’s living room, I set the pizza on the coffee table and open the box, lifting an eyebrow when I see the toppings. “Half pepperoni?” I ask, wondering if he forgot I’m a vegetarian. The other half is my absolute favorite though—banana peppers and black olives.
Mike turns his phone so I can see the pizza on the bed beside him—half pepperoni, half banana peppers and black olives, just like mine. “I’m not too stoked about these banana peppers, myself,” he complains, and I laugh.
“Why didn’t you just get me banana peppers and olives, and you pepperoni?”
“Because this is date,” he insists. “And since this is a date, we’re sharing.”
I fight back the happy tears threatening to spring to my eyes, grabbing a paper plate and napkins from the kitchen while Mike tells me how he had to special-order the banana peppers and have them shipped to the hotel so he could have them as a topping. It makes me realize he’s been planning this for a while, and once again, I feel weightless as I fall.
We talk and tell stories about our days as we eat our pizza, and I laugh at the face Mike makes when he tries a piece from my half. After two slices, I’m full, and he tells me to check the back porch. In front of his patio door, I find a box filled with souvenirs from all the places Mike has been—Canada, China, Korea, Indonesia. There is even some Indonesian candy called Berri Bonz, and Mike tells me he’s held off on trying it since he wanted us to try it together.
We both pucker up at the sourness of the candy, and I laugh hard when Mike’s eyes start to water. Eventually, our eyes stop welling from the sourness, and start welling from how hard we’re laughing. He teaches me a game called semut, orang, gajah, which is basically the Indonesian version of rock, paper, scissors, and I almost forget that he’s not with me—that he’s still on the other side of the world.
The hours pass quickly—too quickly—because before I know it, it’s eleven o’clock my time and someone is knocking on Mike’s hotel door. He sighs heavily and stares at me through the phone. “They’re saying it’s time for sound check.”
“That’s a shame,” I joke to keep myself from begging him not to go. I can tell Mike is struggling enough without me adding to it. “I’m pretty sure you were going to get lucky.”
He gives me a half smile, and I return it. “Really? On our very first date?”
“It was a damn good date,” I tell him, and his smile stretches just a little wider.
“You really liked it?”
“I loved it,” I assure him, taking a deep breath to soothe my stinging eyes. “Thank you.”
“I’ll take you on even better ones when I get home.”
“I believe you.”
Mike’s voice softens when he says, “I love you, Hailey.”
“I love you too,” I tell him, my heart already twisting from the goodbye I know is coming.