Page 62 of 28 Dates

Her finger and thumb trail up and down the stem of the martini glass slowly. Picking up a rose petal, she tosses it toward me.

“This is really special, what you did tonight. I still can’t get over it.”

“I think that maybe you haven’t had a lot of people in your life treat you like you deserve something like this, but I assure you, you do.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“Because you deserve to hear them, too.”

She sighs and takes a drink. “It sounds like you had such a normal childhood, and I know some of it might have been boring or whatever, but compared to mine, it sounds like yours was absolutely perfect.”

“It was. I guess no matter how you grow up, though, as kids you spend time wishing for things you didn’t have. I think that’s pretty normal. I bet a lot of people wished they could have grown up like you.”

She huffs a laugh, but it’s so sad it makes my chest hurt. “My parents weren’t around much. I was raised by nannies and housekeepers. Sometimes a live-in chef, too. It was lonely growing up, and when I was in high school and old enough to take care of myself, the housekeepers and nannies were fired, and I was left alone a lot.”

“Your parents?”

“Too busy being successful and making money to care I was around. I don’t know really, I never thought to ask why they had me and then ignored me.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. About everything that happened in college and then with them afterward.”

She finishes the rest of her drink in one large swallow, making a face as the alcohol burns down her throat. “Yeah, well, I learned a long time ago that I’m better off without them.”

It still must be hard for her. As frustrating as my mom can be, it’s better than having no parents whatsoever. I take her empty glass from her, sliding it to the back edge of the bar, and hold her hand. It’s time we move past this sadness and get to a more enjoyable part of the evening.

Squeezing her hand, I get her attention and say, “So, I didn’t do all of this tonight for what I’m about to ask next—”

“Yes.”

My smile is so big it hurts my cheeks. “You didn’t even let me ask.”

It’s like the last few minutes of talking about her parents never happened because her cheeks are flushed with excitement and, if I’m not mistaken, something more akin to desire. “It better be you asking me to come with you. Or spending the night with me.”

“My place.” We’ve spent so much more time at hers over the years because it’s closer, but tonight, this night, I need her at mine.

I lean in closer until I’m a hair’s width away from her. Brushing my lips over hers, I pull back so she can see the depth of my love for her. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, Jonas. I know that. It just took me a long time to figure that’s what I’ve felt for you, too.”

Hearing her say it will never get old. “Good. Let me close everything down and lock up and we’ll get out of here.”

Chapter 23

Caitlin

I think I’m still processing everything that’s happened over the last few hours. Jonas is Michael. Jonas joined the app to get my attention.

I’m in love with Jonas Reeves, and every time the thought flutters to my mind, dances on the tip of my tongue, it becomes less scary.

We’re sitting in the back of the Uber he ordered, his hand is in mine, and Portland’s tall downtown buildings are slowly passing me by. It’s quiet out, even for a Tuesday seeing as it’s only ten o’clock, and yet deep inside me, an excitement is building.

It’s the strangest sensation dancing in my veins, anticipation and something that feels an awful lot like hope thrums beneath my skin, making me antsy and impatient.

It’s been so long since I’ve been to Jonas’s apartment. It was always easier for him to walk the couple of blocks to my place than it was for me to trek halfway across the city to get to his, and yet I’ve still been here so frequently I know it like the back of my hand.

The driver slows to a quiet street and stops in front of a large brick building. Jonas’s apartment building is old, built back when floor-to-ceiling windows didn’t yet exist, and I know beneath the window in his living area and bedroom are old cast iron radiators that are still used to heat the apartments. More than once he’s banged them with a heavy pot to get the air flowing. The first time I saw him do it, I was wrapped in the sheet from his bed that had ended up tangled and piled on the floor. I’d laughed as he grabbed the large pot sitting on his bedroom floor, telling him that only works in movies.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, warm air seeped into the room, and Jonas had grinned at me, asking, “What were you saying?”

---