“Why?” Gwen asks, leaning slightly forward across the table.
“Maybe I just never had anyone special enough to bring here,” I say, and I catch the faint blush rising in her cheeks.
Alyssa places our drinks on the table, and we each take a sip while taking in the rest of the restaurant. It’s busy tonight, yet somehow it still feels personal.
“You were right about the drink. This is amazing,” Gwen says, taking another sip.
“I’m glad you like it,” I smile. “I hate to sound cliché, but… tell me more about yourself.”
For a moment, she seems hesitant. Then she relaxes, sits back, and lets the conversation flow.
Gwen tells me how she ended up in Chicago, what it was like starting at the bakery, and how she can’t stand Leo but still loves him like a brother. I agree with her on that.
In return, I tell her about the first time I ever played ice hockey, about Blake, and about the countries on my travel bucket list.
“We had fish, mini burgers, pumpkin soup, sweet potato fries, something I still can’t pronounce, and chocolate cake,” Gwen lists as we finish the last of our bites. “I don’t remember the last time I was this full, but oh my God, this was incredible.”
“What was your favorite?” I ask, leaning in and resting my hand over hers.
She glances at it briefly, then looks back at me with a smile.
“The burgers. No, wait, the cake. Or maybe the soup. I really loved everything,” she says, and I laugh.
In this lighting, the blouse she’s wearing has become my new favorite color, especially with the way her eyes are shining, bright with happiness in a way that pulls at me.
“Are you ready for the next part of our date?” I ask, my tone light but eager. I’ve been waiting all night to take her to the bookstore.
“Next part? If you mean the store, it’s closed by now,” Gwen says, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Trust me,” I reply, signaling Alyssa for the bill.
When we step outside, the night air hits cold, sharp, unmistakably Chicago.
“Are you going to be ok walking in this cold?” I ask as Gwen zips up her coat.
“Chicago’s got nothing on me,” she laughs, a playful edge in her voice.
“Alright, good. But if you change your mind, let me know, and I’ll call Josh,” I suggest.
She nods.
We walk for about five minutes before reaching the entrance of Wild Rose. Wendy has clearly outdone herself. I definitely owe her for this.
LED candles glow softly throughout the bookstore, and when I open the door for Gwen, Lana Del Rey drifts through the speakers.
“Oh my God… is this for us?” Gwen asks in awe, taking in the space.
“It’s for you,” I reply, taking her coat from her. “Wendy is a friend of my sister’s and the owner of the store. On our fake first date, you mentioned Rina Kent. Her next book releases in four days, but I asked Wendy for a favor.”
I nod toward the counter. “There’s a signed copy of Rina’s newest book waiting for you.”
Gwen’s eyes begin to well up.
“You did this for me?” she asks as a tear slips down her cheek.
“Only the best for you,” I say softly, stepping closer and gently brushing the tear away with my thumb.
“The moment we met, I knew you were someone special, Gwen. Call it love at first sight, call it butterflies, call it crazy, I like you. A lot,” I tell her.
