Page 29 of See Me

“Might want to stay off the loveseat then too. It’s literally covered in love.”

I cover my eyes with my hands and shake my head. “That, that right there is why.”

“And that’s me. You won’t find any dating apps on Luca’s phone.”

“Only because he wouldn't know how to use them.”

“Fine. Okay. Conversation over.” He turns around and picks up his dropped rag. “But you still have a date tonight.”

I drop my head into my hands on the bar. “Why? You know I’m not going torelieve myself.”

“Matt’s a good guy. Handsome, charming, has a good job. He might be your sunset guy.”

I smack the bar. “Fine, let me see a picture.”

He brings up a photo and hands me his phone. The guy is handsome. Dark hair, blue eyes, a little scruff on his face. He looks tall and muscular, posing in front of a cliff, mountains in the background, wearing a hiking pack and has his foot propped up on a rock.

I bite my lip. “Wow.”

“He said the same about your photo.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What picture did you show him?”

“The one of us at the hockey game.”

“He’s really a good guy?”

“He’s really a good guy. Dinner at eight, San Marco’s, wear something—”

“Something tight, I remember. He kinda sounds like you, though. Who requests that?”

“Oh, he didn’t request that. That’s just my advice to you.”

The barstool screeches as I push off the bar and walk away. “Pig.”

He calls out as I walk into the locker room. “Take an Uber.”

Is it rude to start drinking before your date arrives? Pitchers of margaritas float by on every tray and this water just isn’t cutting it. I turn my phone over and notice the time, just a few minutes past the hour. He’s probably looking for a parking spot. The street was packed and I’m thanking Enzo for telling me to take an Uber. Plus,margaritas.

I glance around the restaurant and my stomach drops. This place is really fancy. Soft lighting with red cloths and flickering candles on the tables. All the servers are dressed in black pants and ties with crisp white shirts. Am I expected to pay my half of the bill? Is that the new feminist thing to do?

My stomach growls when a tray of sizzling fajitas float by the table in a cartoon-like bubble then poofs away like a dream. No way I can afford this place. I peruse the menu looking for the cheapest option that will fill me up while my protesting stomach chantsfajitas, nachos, all the cheese.

A server with soft eyes and graying temples stops by my table. “Would you like some chips and salsa to start with while youwait?”

I look down at the menu to see how much that is. “Uh, sure. And could I please have a strawberry margarita?”

He smiles. “Coming right up.”

So maybe I should’ve waited, but it’s already quarter past the hour and I’m starving. A couple, probably in their seventies, is being seated at the table next to me. The gentleman pulls out his wife’s chair and reaches into his jacket while she’s turned and pulls out a red rose. He hands it to her and when she looks up, with a smile that lights up her whole face, he kisses her temple, and I just melt into a puddle in my chair.

Temple kisses are the most intimate yet protective of all the kisses. They sayI just want to show you how much I love you but the gesture is for you and I expect no reciprocation.

Sigh.

I turn to stare at the empty seat across from me. Nope. Not going to send myself into a pity spiral. Not going to think about being alone, feeling dismissed as a child, or unwanted, or neglected. People think of neglect as merely basic survival needs being withheld. They don’t think of little rich girls as being neglected.

Did I have a pony?Yes.

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