He chuckles, shifts into drive. “Figured we could get to know each other on the way.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow. “What’d you have in mind?”
“The basics. My favorite color’s black. My dog’s name was Yeller, because I had an asshole for a father. And I didn’t take anyone to prom. Your turn.”
Ah.So we’re playing the game again.
“Pink’s my favorite, though red’s growing on me. Never had a pet until recently. A cat named Sammi. I went to prom with the same guy I lost my virginity to.”
Liam nods solemnly. “I feel like we could be best friends, Olive.”
“Is that so?”
He glances over. “My great-grandfather used to say you had to be best friends with the person you marry. He knew my great-grandma was the one within two weeks.”
I snort. “Kind of intense for a first date, sir.”
He shrugs. “Just laying my cards on the table.”
“If your great-grandparents knew after two weeks, what do you think it means when two people have known each other foryears?”
He’s quiet for a beat.
“I think,” he says slowly, “it means if it doesn’t work out, it’s probably the guy’s fault. Especially if he had a father who broke everything good that came near him.” He looks over. “But don’t worry. That guy’s seeing a therapist now. He’s working on it.”
My chest tightens.God.
“And the father?”
“Out of the picture. For good.”
We share a long look. And then we’re pulling into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant in Sheridan at the same place where we had our first fake date.
Liam parks and taps my knee with his knuckles. “Come on, honey. We’ve got a reservation.”
Before I can answer, he’s already out of the truck, circling around to open my door. Palm up. Waiting. I take it.
Inside, I tease, “Didn’t peg you for an Italian guy. Figured you were more steaks and potatoes.”
He smirks. “I figured you’d like this place. Besides,” he leans in, “I’m growing fond of ziti.”
He leads me to the hostess stand, then to our table. Pulls out my chair with a flourish. I murmur a soft “thank you” as I sit, smoothing my skirt down. He stretches out across from me like he owns the restaurant—cool, confident, calm. But his eyes… they’re watching me like I’m the most important thing in the room.
The server appears. Older man. Warm smile. Nothing like the first time we were here.
“What would the lady like to start with?”
“Water, please,” I say.
“I’ll have the same,” Liam adds.
We chat lightly until our food arrives, and then, he shifts the mood again.
“So, Olive…” He tilts his head. “How do you picture meeting the love of your life?”
“Wow.” I blink. “That’s deep for a first date. You go first.”
He leans back. “Meeting at work. That’s romantic, right?”
