Page 65 of Waiting for Gilbert

“Oh, November second.”

“Good, good. Now.” She sets the notebook aside. “Tell me what’s got you locked in this office alone. You’re mad at Diana. What else?”

Lands to the living, does this woman never breathe?

“Can I tell you what I think?” She taps the pencil eraser on Jack’s head.

I smile with a nod. I won’t try to stop her because I don’t think it would work anyway.

“I think you’re trying to grab life by the throat and make it listen to you. You want something so badly you’re forgetting the One who controls all things. Wait, my darling girl. Go on your date tomorrow. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Diana told me all about it. She loves you so much and is only worried about you. Go on your date. Perhaps this David is the man for you. But remember that the Father loves you very much and has great things in store for you. Wait on Him, and let Him show you how much He loves you. Now, hon, don’t you cry again. Here, baby. Use Jack’s towel for those tears. Everything is going to turn out just fine. Just you wait and see.”

26

CORDELIA

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22

FOR KING AND COUNTRY—O COME, O COME, EMMANUEL

It took ninety-three minutes to straighten my curls. If that doesn’t make me serious I don’t know what will. I hate it. It’s in my face, and I can’t stop messing with it.

David is supposed to meet me here at the mall food court in ten minutes. On one hand this could be the most unromantic date. But then again, sweet high school nostalgic feelings are blooming. Magic can happen in a mall food court.

Practically though, it’s public which equals safe. It’s bright and loud, so the mood isn’t awkward. I’m twenty minutes from the airport so I can pick up Mark without any trouble. There’s also a band playing here from six to nine. Hadley Strings. You heard of them? I’m told they’re really good…

Minutes drag by while I force myself to stay off my phone.Dear God, what am I doing here? I am not excited for this at all. Can I leave? I feel so stupid I didn’t talk this through with you.

“Hello. CJ?” A deep voice startles me from my prayers. The cup of water half-way to my mouth doesn’t make it and I spill a mess down the front of my shirt. “Oh…”

I meet the surprised expression of a dark haired, olive-skinned man in his mid-thirties. “David?”

“Yeah, are you okay?” He grabs a handful of paper napkins left on the table beside us. “Here.”

And we’re off to the races. “Thanks.” With my foot, I push out the chair across from me. “Have a seat, good sir.” Ack! No silly names.Be cool, Cordy. Be cool. “How were the roads on your end of town?” That’s a good start. Serious and boring questions.

“Just fine. And you?”

“Yep. Roads being roads. Black and gray. Dashes down the middle.”

He offers a gentle smile and stares at me. What is he even thinking? I don’t like this at all. There should be a list of what we are supposed to do and say. That should be a thing. Maybe it already is a thing and I missed it. Oh, no. What if there’s an email I missed from Friendly Fish detailing how to go through your first meet-up? David’s probably waiting for me to start the conversation, and I don’t know what it is because I missed the email.

Can I search my inbox now? No. There’s no way I could get out my phone and not be rude. It’s fine. I’ll wing it.

I’m CJ Thompson. Food photographer, author, chef. Business woman. Career girl. I’m serious and focused. I mean business. I’m ready to meet the love of my life.

I clear my throat as he sits across from me.

“Nervous?” He hasn’t moved his gaze from mine. It’s suffocating. I’m drowning. Can’t breathe! Why is he so intense?

“Nah.” I flick my gaze to the table top, his eyes, his hands that are folded peacefully on the table, the people in line at the smoothie bar behind him, and zip back to his face. More precisely, his left ear. A lock of black hair covers the top of his ear. There’s a tiny pierced hole in his earlobe but no earring. Interesting.

He fingers his ear as if he knows I was looking at it. “I’m a little nervous. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.” I breathe. In. Out. “I guess I am too.” How do people do this? Do most people look at each other in the face while they’re talking? Ahhh!

Breathe normally.

Make eye contact.

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