Page 58 of 28 Dates

Something feels off as I turn the corner and Dirty Martini’s comes into view. I’m a few minutes late, despite my incessant need to be on time or a few minutes early to all meetings, but spending time with Teagan beforehand was necessary.

I take in the sidewalk outside Dirty’s, and peer into the restaurant as I get closer, and jolt. The blinds have been closed. There’s not a single person outside waiting to get in or leaving. There’s a silent, eerie feeling as I head to the door. I’ve never seen the blinds closed before: not even when Jonas shuts down at night has he closed them. The only time any of the windows are darkened is when the sun is shining and the table in front wants the sun to stop shining in their faces. But the sun has almost completely set and the moon is already high in the sky, shining brightly and giving off its own strange glow.

I shiver and come to a stop as the door to the restaurant swings open.

Expecting to see customers exiting, I’m more surprised when it’s Tucker at the door.

“You’re late,” he says, grinning, and steps outside to hold the door open for me. “Thought maybe you were going to punk out on him.”

“What?” I tug my coat tighter. This is strange. Epically weird. “What’s going on?”

He wiggles his brow and tips his head inside. “You’ll see. Head on in. There’s something on the bar for you.”

He’s grinning, and as friendly as Tucker is, as much fun as I have hanging with him when he’s behind the bar, this isn’t right. A cooling sensation prickles the back of my neck and slides down my spine. “You’re being strange.”

“Trust me, Caitlin. You’ll want to come in.” He steps back, pushing the door open even further, and holds out his arm, waiting for me to precede him.

I give him a look, my brows tugging in tighter, and hesitantly step forward.

As soon as I turn the corner of the door and enter, my eyes almost can’t take in everything in front of me.

The heck? “What?” I say on a gasp. I turn to Tucker. He’s behind me, hand at my lower back, gently pushing me forward. I stumble forward and my knees lock.

The sound of the door locking grabs my attention, and I swivel. “What are you doing?”

Tucker pockets the keys to the restaurant. “Leaving. I’ll let Jonas explain the rest. Don’t forget your gift at the bar.”

He heads through the restaurant toward the kitchen, and it’s several moments before I can move. Or breathe. Or close my mouth.

Christmas lights have been strung over the entirety of the ceiling of Dirty’s. On every single table are vases of beautiful white and red and pink roses. There must be hundreds of them, and the aroma is so overwhelming, I can’t breathe it in deep enough.

“What the hell?” I mutter. On the bar, petals are scattered. Candles float inside vases. The Christmas lights and candles are the only thing giving off light except the glow coming from the back hallway and kitchen. Through the speakers, soft music plays, sweeter and gentler than anything I’ve heard before, but I can’t place who it is. I just know that with every breath I take, my heart rate is speeding and yet my muscles are relaxing.

Jonas.

Where is he?

He’s waiting for me to do something. Or at least I hope this is for me. And tears are already forming again. If he’s done this for me, shut down Dirty’s and spent what’s had to be hours decorating it for me, then I truly have nothing to be afraid of except the fear that comes from my own insecurities.

Remembering what Tucker said, I head to the bar. My hands run the length of it, and I pick up petals here and there, bringing them to my nose and sniffing before dropping them to the floor. At the far end, I find a small book set on the counter.

Don’t fault the joke book I’ve had for years.

I reach for the book, my hands trembling, my skin tingling. It can’t be. He can’t be.

But the book tells it all. The upper right corner is peeling. The edges are frayed. The inside pages are wavy, and there’s a small brown stain at the bottom of the spine. On the cover, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo are in fighting stance, Han with his gun out, Luke with his lightsaber in the air, and above the two cartoony figures is the title:The Best Star Wars Joke Book.

“Oh God.” My fingers go to my mouth, and I clutch the book.

Michael is Jonas? Jonas pretended to be someone to talk to me? I hadn’t even considered him dating anyone using the app. It’s hurt too much the few times the thought popped into my mind so I kicked it right back out. Even when we got together that night, the night I was stood up…

“Except I wasn’t stood up at all.” I sniff and drop the book, unable to help myself. When I was a kid and given a book, I always wrote my name in the cover. My full name.

My hands are still trembling as I fold back the cover, and on the inside, just like I knew would be there, scrawled in uneven and youthful writing, is what I knew I would see.

Jonas Michael Reeves.

Touch and Die.

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