No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

Upon hearing Ethel's voice, I casually tossed my phone aside, "Yeah."

After saying that, I slipped off my shoes, shuffled into my slippers, and opened the door, immediately spotting Ernest in the yard, filling several white buckets with water. The buckets lined up neatly, and as they quickly filled, he hoisted them up, his shoulder muscles visibly defined even through his shirt.

Man, the guy was a perfect blend of muscle and raw strength.

"Why are you hoarding so much water? Is there a water shutdown coming?" I strolled over to ask.

Ethel looked at my slippers disapprovingly and rolled her eyes at me silently.

Ernest didn't answer, but Ethel did, "Just in case of a shutdown."

She then patted Ernest on the back. "I'm making clam chowder tonight. You two head out and grab some clams. Ensure they're fresh. And pick up some potatoes, hams, and onions, will you?"

It wasn't about fetching groceries but sending us off to chat. But here I was, in those big and floppy slippers, hardly appropriate, yet returning inside to change seemed even more so.

"Go change your shoes," Ernest suggested.

At that point, changing would embarrass me more, so I chuckled, "No need."

Without another word, Ernest started walking away, and Ethel winked at me, signaling to hurry up and follow him. She called out, "Ernest, wait for Licia."

Shuffling in my slippers, I stepped out, feeling oddly comfortable despite the mismatch.

We hadn't walked far when Ernest suddenly stopped. "Heard you wanted to date me?"

I was speechless. Had Ethel pitched it like that? But, direct as ever, he just put it out there.

"What, you're not interested?" I looked at him, really seeing him for the first time.

His features were sharp, eyes

deep-set. His lips were neither too

thin nor too thick. He was

handsome, giving any Hollywood heartthrob a run for their money, especially his tan skin.

They said not to judge a book by its cover, but wasn't that the first thing we all did? We couldn't start by inspecting someone's physique, could we?

"I'm thirty-one," he began, introducing himself, "Served eight years in the military. Now, I'm..." He got interrupted before he could finish.

"Hey, big guy!" A teenager, around seventeen or eighteen, whistled and gave me a once-over.

"Is that taxi yours?" I asked after the kid had left, picking up where we left off.

"No, it's a friend's," he replied, clearing he was sharing the taxi gig with a buddy.

"You've ever been with a widow?" My question was blunt.

His gaze deepened. "No."

"Think you might in the future?" I realized I was exposing my insecurities as I asked.

I was sensitive, just not visibly so.

"No," he was sparing with his words.

I smiled lightly. "I'm twenty-four. I just got out of a nearly-officialContent rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

relationship. Parents are gone

I'm not looking to jump back into dating."

I laid it all out there clear as day. When Ethel had asked if I'd consider dating him, it was just a slip of the tongue. I wasn't looking to date, especially not in some setup with a stranger.

Ernest looked at me, understanding, and I turned to leave. "How about marriage, then?" His words stopped me abruptly. Standing tall, he locked eyes with me, repeating, "Get married."