“Louna. Stop it.”
“William,” the guy called out over the clanging of the slicer. “You want this thin? Are you making that melon dish we had at dinner that time?”
I gaped at him. “Y-yes,” he stammered. I could literally feel heat coming off his face. “That would, um, be great.”
“Excuse me,” a man carrying a baguette said, coming up to us. “Where is the bulk nut section?”
“Over by the flowers,” William told him, clearly grateful for once for this distraction. “Straight ahead, then left.”
“You had him over fordinner?” I demanded, as the man walked away, taking a wrong turn immediately. “When was this?”
“Hush,” he said, fiddling with the lemons in his basket.
“Here you go,” the meat guy said, dropping two plastic bags on the counter. “The prosciutto you like, with a sample of the Black Forest. You want me to walk over to cheeses with you so you can sample that Meridien?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling at him.
“No,” William told him, at the same time. “I, um... we have to go. I’m cooking and the chicken is... Next time.”
“Sure thing.” The guy smiled at me and then, wider, at William. “I’ll look forward to it.”
William grabbed the meat, tossing it in his basket, then hustled away, vanishing around a display of flavored popcorn. I turned back to the guy, sticking out my hand. “I’m Louna. And you are?”
“Matt,” he replied. We shook. “You’re William’s...”
“Goddaughter,” I said, which was the easy explanation.
“He’s a great guy,” he told me, looking at the popcorn. “And, um... still single? Yes?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Good to know,” he said, then knocked the counter between us, smiled, and walked away.
I found William dabbing his brow by the macaroons. “You didn’t tell me you’d had anyone over for a date.”
“It was one time,” he said. I waited. “Look, he’s nice. I’m just... not ready for anything.”
“William. You haven’t dated since I was in middle school.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“With prosciutto and melon, apparently,” I said. He blushed again. “Look, if I can get back out there dating, so can you.”
He looked at me. “You’re dating again?”
“Kind of. Ambrose and I made a bet. I’m actually meeting the Lumberjack at a party tonight.”
He looked surprised. “Really?”
I nodded. “It’s nothing serious. That’s the whole point. I just have to date, but Ambrose has to commit for seven weeks. Whoever caves first has to get set up by the other with their person of choice.”
“Ambrose gets to set you up?” he asked.
“If he wins,” I said. “Which he won’t.”
“You should hope not. Because he’d pick himself for sure.”
Now my eyes widened. “What? No. That’s not how it works.”
