Page 19 of Cluelessly Yours

“Only if you want to, Sam,” he interjects quickly. “Consider it a friendly reminder that my offer is always on the table. Of course, there’s still no deadline. Or pressure. But you know what Wayne Gretzky says…you miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“Wait…was that Wayne Gretzky or Michael Scott?”

“Both.” He laughs, and my lips curve into a smile. “What do you say, Sammy? Are you free tonight to have dinner with me?”

I’ve never been freer in my life.

The question is, should I use that freedom to meet up with Gavin Evans…or is that the kind of idea that ends in disaster?

I tuck my wrap tighter around my arms and step out of the windy bluster of the street. The lobby of Gadsden—one of the trendiest restaurants in the city—is dark and cozy and absolutely crushed with people.

My hair is fluffed and my cleavage lifted, and boy, do I feel like a fraud and a half. It’s been over a decade since I’ve thought out an outfit or mused over what style of hair and makeup would make me look sexy. My wild children are no doubt ripping Chase’s and Mo’s and Vinny’s wallets and willpower to shreds at the baseball game, and I’m out here…dating.

After accepting Gavin’s invitation, I ran straight home and re-gussied myself up like some kind of escort for hire.

It feels all wrong, and yet, I know if I don’t push past the discomfort now, I may never find my way around it. And as much as my life is in chaos and it’s easier to do it all alone, I don’t know if I’m prepared to say that in five or ten years. What if I’m left to look back on this time in my life as the turning point of it all? As the moment I gave up on me and let myself fade into oblivion?

Am I prepared to be the woman running out of bars to avoid coming face-to-face with an insanely good-looking doctor, his beautiful date, and an awkward third-wheelership for the rest of my life?

I don’t know, but at the same time, I guess not, because here I am.

Nerves sizzle into a tingling feeling at the tips of my fingers as I think aboutworming my way through all of these people looking for Gavin. It feels daunting and, even, if I’m honest, makes me doubtful.

But a gentle touch at my elbow takes me out of my overanalysis. I spin around to find the culprit and am met with the smiling green-hazel eyes of my date.

“Sammy,” Gavin greets tenderly, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek and sparking a zap in my stomach. It’s funny. I thought all the butterflies that lived in there were long past dead. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

I blush. It feels good to be noticed.

“They have our table ready, but I thought I’d take the liberty of waiting for you out here. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind?Truth is, I could cry I’m so relieved.

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Great,” he replies with a smile. His hand smooths down my back to settle in the small hollow just above my butt, and we’re in motion. Side to side and through the crush, this handsome man in a gray suit—who, for some insane reason, wants to go on a date with me—guides us with an ease I didn’t know existed before this moment. My step doesn’t have to falter or pause, and I don’t have to shrink myself to fit through the people around us. He makes a hole forbothof us, and all I have to do is fill it.

Once we reach our table, Gavin pulls out my chair and then moves to sit in his own once I’m settled. He signals the waiter, and I’m impressed with the level of service when I’m greeted by a man in black slacks and white collared shirt asking for my drink in less than five seconds.

“I’ll take a glass of prosecco, and a glass of water also, if you don’t mind.”

The waiter’s face is fond and friendly. “Of course. Is there a specific prosecco you’d like?”

Heat flushes my cheeks. I know this business well enough to know that there must be at least twenty choices of prosecco in their cellar, but I’m so flustered, I didn’t even think to ask for the menu.

“She’ll take the best you have,” Gavin chimes in without prompting. Inanother circumstance, it could be seen as controlling. Themanordering for thelittle woman. But right now, I’m grateful. I lift the corners of my mouth in appreciation to let him know.

Words are far too complex at this time.

Flat out, I’m overwhelmed. I made the decision to meet him here on a whim, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how to date or flirt or freaking relax, for Pete’s sake.

Frankly, after a divorce and momming all the time and moving to a new city, I don’t even know who I am anymore.

“You okay, Sammy?” Gavin asks, jolting my attention back to the present in a way that tells me just how out of it I was.

“Yes,” I say through a forced smile, sitting up straighter in my chair and picking at the linen tablecloth with frantic fingers. “Of course. I’m sorry, I—”

“Sam,” Gavin interrupts, putting his hand on top of mine and calming my fidget. His eyes are warm and his expression soft. “It’s okay. I know I sprung this on you last minute, and I still remember what you said yesterday. I promise there’s no pressure. Just enjoy a dinner on me, okay? Don’t feel like you have to make any decisions or promises other than that.”

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