“Lottie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like party planning was either a hell of a time or a disaster.”
My brain conjures the image of the diner as we left it, the warm glow of satisfaction burning bright in my chest. “It was perfect.”
“Good. And you’re still wanting me to come?”
“Yes, but . . .” I sit up, wrestling out of my jacket and kicking my shoes off.
“But?”
“We changed locations. I’ll text you the address but don’t look it up. I want it to be a surprise. Oh. And I think I want to introduce you as . . .” I trail off, not really sure what to say. Evendrunk me can tell it might be presumptuous to label him. “I want to tell people we’re dating. For real.”
It’s quiet for a moment, just long enough for a lick of hesitation to grow. He sighs into the phone, the sound of it wistful.
“Is it too horny to admit I wish you were here, or that I was there? Because, god, I want to kiss you.”
I giggle, my cheeks warming. “And other stuff?”
“Always other stuff.”
“Good. I can’t have you getting bored of me already.”
“Never.”
Another comfortable silence settles and I can’t stop grinning. Today was almost perfect. It isn’t until Kara comes prancing out from the bathroom, wrapped in her robe and scrunching her hair in a spare towel that I realize I’ve been sitting here quiet, but grinning like a fool for nearly twenty minutes.
“Hey, Noah?”
“Yes?”
“I should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
“Big day indeed. Goodnight, Lottie.”
Kara sinks onto the couch next to me, and waggles her eyebrows.
“How's the hot boss man?”
“He’s fine.”
“I already know he’s fine.”
I shove her arm. “You’re impossible.”
“This looks good on you. Happy.”
“Thanks, it feels good too.”
“Yeah? You’re doing okay?”
I take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out through my lips. Kara knows all about my refusal to date anyone for real—about the fear of finding myself dependent on someone.
