“I’m not. You are.” He stuck his tongue out at me. “The Svenssons helped me make a profile for you. You have a ton of matches! This really nice lady who says she likes pandas matched with you, and you have a date this evening.”
“I can’t,” I said automatically. “I have a three-hour meeting scheduled from six to nine. It’s an emergency discussion about one of our new products.”
My little brother giggled. “It’s a fake meeting. I had the secretary block off the time. She agrees with me. You need to get out more.”
He smiled up at me brightly. “It will be fun!”
Fuck.
* * *
The restaurant wasn’t too crowdedwhen I walked in. Girl Meets Fig was a local place run by Zoe, one of the Svensson brothers’ girlfriends.
She did not suffer fools in her restaurant. No, you could not make changes to the order, though you could barter for a meal.
It was the classic small-town quirkiness that most people were looking for when they moved to Harrogate. Though charming at first, it did have the tendency to wear on one after a while.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just fry these!”
“It’s a health concern,” Zoe said to an older man in a corduroy scarf.
“It’s not a health concern. These zucchini are freshly picked!”
“I know you stole them from the Costco, Art,” Zoe said, pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses. She signaled to me to pick a table.
“Lies!” Art complained.
“I see the sticker on them!” Zoe said, flabbergasted.
I took a seat at a table in the corner with a view of the restaurant and waited for my date.
It had been years since I had been on a date, let alone had a girlfriend. Part of me was dreading it. What would we talk about?
Alfie had tried to give me a rundown of my blind date, but all I had been able to glean from the chatter was that the girl liked pandas, the color pink, and nail polish.
Was she really the type of person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?
You’re not about to get married. It’s just a date. It’s barely a date. This isn’t a super-fancy restaurant.
But the woman who pranced in a few moments later was dressed to the nines—five-inch stilettos, a designer mini dress, hair perfectly blown out, and a diamond necklace.
“Sebastian, hi!” she said in a high-pitched baby voice, drawing out the words. She ignored my outstretched hand and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek noisily. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”
“Have you been here before?” I asked her politely.
“I live in Manhattan, actually,” she admitted, “but I’m really thinking of moving to Harrogate.”
“I see,” I said.
“It’s so adorable! Small towns are so cute and a great place to raise a family. I would love to have a wedding here,” she said as I pulled out a seat for her. “I already have my dream wedding planned out. I want a whole wedding weekend with candles everywhere and tons of flowers.”
This date is probably going to feel like an entire weekend,I decided as I stared at the menu while making noncommittal noises as the girl talked sixty miles an hour. I looked around, hoping Zoe would come take drink orders. Unfortunately, there was now a line of people at the cash register because one woman was trying to argue down the bill.
“No discounts,” Zoe said loudly. “You ate the whole fish pie, so it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“I need a drink,” I muttered.
“Oh my god! I love alcohol!” The girl giggled. “I totally want the raspberry vodka. I saw a picture of it on Instagram, and I told my bestie from college—we’re sorority sisters, and we’re graduating together—that she should serve it as her signature cocktail. Actually…” My date gave me a sly look. “You know, you kind of look like her fiancé. What was your last name? Randal?”
