Desmond’s features softened as he continued to look at me. “Did that asshole ruin your night?”
I turned away, feeling the heat rise up my neck. “It was just the tip,” I said, remembering the upcoming restaurant sale. “My day had been going badly to start with.”
“Ah.” Desmond turned around and seemed to reflect on that. “Well, I hope your tomorrow is better than that.”
I gave him a smile. “I hope so too,” I said just as the driver pulled up outside my apartment. I opened my door and then turned to him. “Thanks, Desmond,” I said a little wistfully. “Thanks for helping me out.”
He nodded. “The next time you’re on a date, call me if someone treats you like that.”
I hesitated. And then nodded. “Okay,” I said, eager to get away.
Being in close quarters with Desmond wasn’t good for me. My cheeks felt flushed, my pulse was racing, and I was feeling heady. As though I were the one who had had shots of tequila instead of Harvey.
He tilted his head as he looked at me and read between the lines. “You don’t have my number anymore, do you?”
I bit my lip.
He grinned and pulled his phone out. He tapped it a few times, and my phone rang right away.
Desmond grinned.
“Now, you do,” he said while I swung one leg out of the car and got out.
He still has my number.
“Thank you, Desmond,” I said with some difficulty. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Anytime, Ava,” he responded before I shut the door, and the car drove away.
When I steppedout of the car, waving a goodbye to Desmond, I waited until his car was out of sight before I began walking over to the soup kitchen that was five blocks away. The lights in Mrs. Wilson’s unit, the one below mine, were out, which meant she was already at her shift in the soup kitchen.
While walking, I called Gabriela, who was my rock.
“How did it go?” Gabriela asked, her voice cheery and bright, even while I could hear her son playing in the background.
“It was terrible,” I said flatly. “It ranks as my second-worst date ever.”
“Uh-oh,” she said, her voice solemn. The background noise of her kid faded, and I heard a door click before she found a quieter part of the house to speak from. “I’m so sorry, Ava,” she sighed. “Are you back home?”
Beep, beep.
I stared at my phone before I realized that Freya, the friend who had insisted I go on this date, was doing a video call with Gabriela, Lily, and me.
“Freya presumably wants a debrief. Are you up for it?” Gabriela asked, her voice far away as she, too, presumably stared at the conference call request on her phone.
I drew in a deep breath and continued walking. “Best to get it over with.”
In true Freya fashion, when I answered her call, she got words in, even before I could part my lips.
“Fifty-five minutes! Five minutes more than I predicted,” she said indignantly, not directly into the phone. There was some chatter and some grumbling, no doubt from the religious, well-behaved Lily.
“Can you speak up?” I asked. “I can’t hear you. And, Freya, that’s the last time I let you help me pick a date off the dating app. The man was miserable! This date ranks in the top two of my worst dates ever.”
“Sorry, Ava. I just got richer by twenty dollars.” She giggled just as Lily’s voice came over the phone.
“Couldn’t you have kicked him out sooner? I’m out twenty dollars,” Lily grumbled. “I’ve sinned, Ava! Sinned by betting! But I should have at least won if I was going to commit a crime.”
I took a second to process that. “Did you and Freya have a bet that I’d give up before fifty minutes?”
