Later that evening, I take a long, hot shower and get ready for dinner. I chose a simple, black knit dress with long sleeves and a wide neck that subtly dips off one shoulder. I sweep some of my hair up, leaving a curtain of bangs and the back to fall in waves against my neck. Gold hoops and a dab of makeup finish off the ensemble. It’s not the sort of pretentious armor I hide behind in Chicago; it’s a look that makes me feel comfortable in my skin.
I pull up to the Vargas’ house ten minutes early, my tires churning in the snow. Their place is a craftsman-style brick bungalow nestled among white-covered spruce trees. The string of porch lights twinkles through the last remnants of the sun, and the cold lake air has left a sheen of frost on the front windows. The wintery scene is like a postcard.
Bitsy’s barking greets me as I climb the steps. I take a breath and, juggling my parcels, prepare to knock just as the door swings open. Chaz stands there in dark chinos and a V-neck sweater, dimples flashing and weakening my knees.
“Hey, Blue.” He kisses my cheek and takes the gift bags from me. “Did you buy out the whole store?”
“I might have gotten a little carried away.”
When Sophia mentioned she was into romance novels, I spent an hour, to the bookstore owner’s delight, selecting half a dozen books, from cozy to spicy, with diverse representation. “I kept the receipt in case she wants to exchange anything.”
“I’m sure she’ll love them. Let me put these away, and I’ll grab your coat.” He disappears into the family room, leaving me alone with Bitsy. She sits obediently on her rump, staring up at me, her tail swishing against the maple hardwood.
“Hi,” I say, which has her cocking her head. I hear Sophia’s bubbly laughter and a deep voice that could belong to either Mr. Vargas or Dice coming from the kitchen. Nerves buzz under my skin.
After all, this is Chaz’s family in every way that matters. Val is a professional mentor and father figure, and Eva is the nurturing mother he and Sophia needed after their tragic loss. And then there’s Dice, his best friend—protective and loyal and will probably be sizing me up. That alone has my thoughts whirling.Will they even like me?
I rub my hand over Bitsy’s head, finding her brown and white fur soft and dense under my fingers. Chaz returns, smiling when he sees me petting her.
“Making friends.”
“I get why people find this calming,” I say, scratching Bitsy’s head again.
He takes my coat and peers at my face. “I know it’s a lot, meeting everyone.”
Wait. Had he told them to hang back to avoid overwhelming me? Had he mentioned my meltdown last night? Oh my God, how much do they know?
Bitsy barks as if sensing my tension.
“Shh,” he quiets her. “Lex, look at me.”
I blink, forcing my gaze up to his.
“Tell me an interesting fact.”
That pauses my rambling thoughts. “You want to hear a fact?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Oh.” I sift through the random trivia in my head. “Did you know the hundred folds in a pleated chef’s hat represent a hundred ways to cook an egg?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“About the hat or that there are a hundred ways to cook an egg?”
“Either.” He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way I love. “You must kill at Trivial Pursuit.”
“I do. But my favorite board game is Scrabble.”
“Good to know. I think there’s one at the cottage.”
“There is. We should play some time.”
“We should,” he says.
The distraction works to turn down the volume. Not all the way off, but my mind is quieter. Chaz used one of my coping strategies without making me feel like a basket case. Whatever he told his family—assuming he said anything—I know he would have handled it with care and respect. Because that’s who he is. “I’m ready now,” I say. Or as ready as I’ll ever be.
Chaz takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. “By the way, you look sensational.”
