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Shit. She used my full name. She never does that. It’s always the short form, Charlie Mae. It makes me sound like I’m a Southern belle, but it’s less harsh than my actual full name.

MAEVE:

He told me you said you’d be in touch. And you haven’t been.

Bollocks. I did say that, didn’t I? I hate being wrong. And forgetting details. Or making mistakes. And I made a mistake.

MAEVE:

Char. Please get in touch with him, will you?

ME:

I’ll text him. I promise.

My response makes me feel small, like a scolded child, though I know my sister’s intentions are nothing but loving.

ME:

Give my niece a big squeeze for me.

Love you most.

MAEVE:

I love you most, sissy. Speak soon, all right?

I know I just need to get this over with before I talk myself out of it. Rafael and I have had each other’s numbers for a while. He insisted on it when he was Maeve’s bodyguard, in case anything happened. I pull up his name and start typing, deleting the message at least four times before hitting send.

ME:

Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.

Would you like to have our first meeting soon?

The three little dots appear almost instantly, and I nearly drop my bag as I fumble with my phone in my hands.

RAFAEL:

How’s tonight?

Tonight? Oh. It’s Friday night. Doesn’t he have a date to go on or something? And what if I had plans? As if. Of course I don’t, but he doesn’t know that!

RAFAEL:

Unless you already have plans. Maybe tomorrow?

Yeah, maybe I do have plans.

Except, I don’t.

ME:

Tonight’s fine.

My heart is hammering, and I cannot explain why.

Probably because you haven’t even talked to another human being other than the barista at the coffee shop down the road for approximately three days.