“Ugh. Don’t ask,” I groan. “It was terrible.”
“Really?” She turns to face me, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I thought he had so much potential.”
I shake my head, watching as a group of students starts playing hopscotch. “He couldn’t stop talking about his 401k. Good for you, buddy, for having a retirement account. I do too, but I don’t drone on and on about it on a first date.”
Rina bumps me with her shoulder. “Sorry, babe. Maybe Michael knows someone else at his office that we can set you up with.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m done for a while. I’m tired of first dates.”
Exhausted, really.
I thought I was one of the lucky ones and found my soulmate in college. I was wrong. Oh, how wrong I was. But that’s not something I like thinking about.
Even if I want a partner, a string of bad first dates makes it hard to want to keep dating.
A foot doctor—who discussed gross foot diseases over dinner.
A self-professed Lego Master—who turned out to be unemployed and living in his parents’ basement.
A financial analyst—obsessed with his 401k.
I seem to find the cream of the crop in men.
“Okay.” Rina holds up her hands. “What if I find someone that I think is perfect for you? Can I set you up then?”
I waggle my head back and forth in thought. “Maybe.”
Rina’s smile is triumphant. “That’s not a no.”
I point a finger in her face. “It’s not a yes either.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
I smile at her before turning my attention back to the swings. It’s always the point of contention at recess. “You love me for it.”
“I don’t know why.”
Rina is probably one of my closest friends in Nashville. She and her husband, even though they’re older than I am, took me under their wing when I first arrived at Nashville Prep.
After everything that happened, I couldn’t stay at my old school. I needed a fresh start. Getting an offer to teach at a private school seemed like the best thing at the time. And now I have Rina.
In her late thirties, she’s gone prematurely gray and has no interest in coloring her hair. Her hazel eyes are playful, and she never has an unkind word to say about anyone. It’s one of the reasons I gravitate toward her and her husband. If I ever need anything, they’re there for me.
“How’s the house hunting going?” Rina asks, changing the subject.
“I’m looking at a couple next weekend, so fingers crossed. I think one of them might be perfect for me.”
“Is it the small bungalow you sent me?”
I nod.
“I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think I could get it.”
It’s really the perfect place for me. A small bungalow on a little piece of land. The housing market in Nashville is hot, so I’ve been scrimping and saving every penny for the last few years in order to buy my own place. Being that I live a bit outside of the city, it’s a little pricier, but I’ve been watching the bungalow as it’s been rehabbed since I started teaching here.
The sage exterior with a dark gray front door calls to me. The interior is open, with hardwood floors and a brand-new kitchen, and it’s everything I’d want in my own space.
The owner’s suite is in the back of the house, with a sitting room in the front that overlooks a large willow tree. There’s even a walkout basement that leads to a nice big yard.
