I fling the bathroom door open, hurry into the closet, and stare at the dress I originally picked out. Suddenly it feels… wrong.
Flipping through my dresses, I curse myself under my breath. Why do I dress like a nun half the time?
I consider raiding Gen’s closet, but it’s downstairs, and I amnotrunning around like a headless chicken in front of Patrick.
God, I’m acting like this is our actual first date.
Pursing my lips, I grab a red dress. It covers me from tits to knees, technically modest, but with the extra curves I still have from Agnes, it’s definitely going to be tight.
Before I can change my mind, I step into it and wriggle it up, struggling around the chest area.
I shove my feet into black heels and check the mirror.
…Not bad. Like,dangerouslynot bad.
A boob might pop out if I bend over, but hopefully I won’t have to.
Cringing at the thought, I grab my phone, inhale deeply, and head to my date.
The carpet muffles my footsteps as I walk down the stairs, but like a moth to a flame with excellent timing, Patrick appears at the bottom just as I reach the last step.
“Hi,” he says, looking ridiculous in a good way, button-down shirt, jeans, clean-shaven, hair perfect. Like he tried, like I did.
I smile back. “Hi.”
My stomach flutters. Butterflies. Maybe actualbirds.
From somewhere deeper in the house, Gen calls,
“Dustin is on his way back with Milo, so you two might wanna stare at each other at the restaurant!”
I roll my eyes but don’t dignify her with a reply.
Dustin, her beau of two months and a man who passed Officer Patrick’s background check, offered to take Milo to get popcorn so he wouldn’t see us together and think we’re getting back together.
I glance toward Agnes, who’s in Gen’s arms… staring at us with laser focus. Then she reaches out toward Patrick, making grabby hands.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
Gen waves me off and bounces away with my daughter. A second later we hear her cry.
“Just go!” Gen yells.
I pout at Patrick helplessly.
He laughs under his breath. “Come on. Before ourbiggerbaby sees us and cries.”
Still pouting, I laugh too.
He shakes his head, then extends a hand toward me. “Come on.”
I stare at his outstretched palm. It shouldn’t feel like anything big. It’s just a hand. Just skin and bones and warmth.
But somehow… it feels like more. Like a commitment or a gesture.
Biting my lip, I place my hand in his.
His fingers tighten immediately, like he’s happy I took the leap.
