I sigh, knowing I’ll agree. Maybe this will be a good transition into dating. Maybe I’ll really like the guy. At minimum, it’ll make my sister happy.
“I’ll go on one condition,” I say.
Cassidy sighs. “What?”
“That you pick out an outfit for me. I never know what to wear on first dates.”
My sister’s laugh is startled. Pleased. “Deal.”
We meet Josh and his friend outside a new seafood restaurant that recently opened in Seaport. Walker—I don’t know his last name—and I smile politely at each other while Josh and Cassidy share a lengthy hello kiss.
“Nice to meet you, Claire,” Walker says, holding a hand out.
I shake it, relieved he seems friendly and normal. “Nice to meet you too. Welcome to Boston.”
He smiles. “Thanks.”
Walker is a couple of inches taller than me—five-ten or five-eleven. Clean-shaven and wearing a button-down without a single wrinkle in the fabric. He absolutely does not look the type to offer a stranger a ride outside a Paris nightclub or to have a glitzy dinner with a model in Manhattan. The tops of his earsturn red after he looks at my chest—cleavage displayed in a low-cut black top borrowed from Cassidy—which I find endearing.
“It’s so good to see you, Claire,” Josh greets, giving me a warm hug.
“You too,” I reply, smiling when we separate and he immediately reaches for Cassidy’s hand again.
Walker works in medical sales, same as Josh. Talking about their respective jobs and the recent conference in San Diego fills the lags in conversation between us being seated and ordering drinks and appetizers.
I’m bored by the topic, but nod along at what I think are the appropriate parts between bites of focaccia dunked in olive oil.
Cassidy mostly beams at Josh.
Her lovestruck expression is a little nauseating to witness, but it’s also nice to see my sister look so happy. I’m not sure how serious she and Josh are, if it’s just a rekindled flame or a new progression, but after witnessing this, I’m leaning toward the latter. Josh hasn’t been introduced to Tommy yet, which is why we met the guys here, but he’s looking at Cassidy the same way he did in high school.
The waiter delivers our entrées, which all look and smell amazing. I’m relaxing in my seat, picking up my fork and thinking how tonight is going better than I expected, when I see him.
I recognize Will Aster first because he was—is—rather infamous in the soccer world. He’s from Dorchester originally, which is why his career in Seattle was sometimes covered by local papers. Will no longer plays for Seattle. He plays for FC Kluvberg—a detail that stuck in my head only because of who I associate with that club.
I start searching as soon as I spot Will, my brain already connecting the dots. A beautiful blonde woman is holding hands with Will. A man in a wheelchair, who closely resembles Will,is with them. Behind the three of them is Otto. He’s nodding in response to something the hostess is saying. She’s leaning over the stand, as close as possible to him, and I frown right as Otto looks this way.
A low buzz hums in my ears, drowning out all the sounds surrounding me, as we look at each other. My appetite vanishes, my stomach more preoccupied with an acrobatic routine than eating. It’s the first day he showed up at the Siege facility all over again. His presence at practice and games is one thing. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
I look away first, reaching for my full wine glass and swallowing half in one sip. Josh ordered a bottle, and I wasn’t planning on drinking any. But I need something to do with my hands. Some distraction from?—
“Hello, Claire.”
I glance up into Otto’s smooth expression. “Hi, Coach Berger.”
There’s a chuckle from Will—who’s behind Otto—that he quickly covers with a cough. It’s enough to tell me he’s familiar with the Otto I remember meeting, the guy who would have also laughed about being addressed as an authority figure.
The hostess is past our table, holding a stack of menus. Will, the woman, and the man in the wheelchair are all following Otto. He’s holding them up, deliberately stopping to talk to me, and everyone at my table is glancing curiously between us.
My cheeks feel like they’re radiating heat, and I hope it’s not obvious.
This is another collision, with my sister, with the guy I’m on a date with, and all I can think about is last night’s dream.
His eyes flick down from my face, so quick that I nearly miss it. His expression doesn’t change. I feel like I was just lit on fire. My boobs are nothing special, perky but small, and he’s seenthem before. But this is the first time I’ve worn something other than athletic attire around him, and he looked.
“You’re one of Claire’s coaches?” Cassidy asks, surprise and appreciation evident in her voice.
As separate as I’d like to keep the past and present, it’s strange to realize my sister has never met Otto.
