“It’s not terrible.”
“Is it fancy?” Rhoda asked.
“It’s... nice.”
“Nice ornice?” Maggie pressed.
I stared at her. “What’s the difference?”
“Nice is the diner,” Rhoda said. “Niceis somewhere you need a reservation.”
“I made a reservation.”
Both women smiled like I’d just passed some kind of test.
“Good,” Maggie said. “Kat deserves nice.”
“I know that.”
“And you’re going to be a gentleman,” Rhoda added.
“I’m always a gentleman.”
Maggie snorted. “I’m just saying... tonight’s about Kat. Not Frankie. Just her.”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I know.”
“And you’re nervous,” Rhoda said gently.
“I’m not—” I stopped, exhaled. “Yeah. I’m nervous.”
“Good,” Maggie said. “You should be. It means you care.”
I did care. More than I’d ever cared about anything in my entire fucking life.
A door down the hall opened, and I heard soft footsteps. My heart stopped.
I turned toward the hallway, and then—
Fuck.
Kat appeared in the living room doorway, and every coherent thought I’d ever had evaporated.
She was wearing a dress. Dark blue, fitted at the waist, falling just above her knees. Her hair was down, soft waves framing her face. She’d done something with her makeup, not a lot, just enough to make her eyes look even more devastating than usual.
She was breathtaking.
And she was looking at me like she was just as nervous as I was.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stand there like a fucking idiot while she walked toward me, her eyes locked on mine.
You don’t deserve her,the voice in my head whispered.You’re just like me. A killer. She’s going to realize it eventually and—
No.
I shut that voice down hard, the way Haizley had taught me. The way I’d been practicing for weeks.
That wasn’t my voice. That was my father’s. And he didn’t get to have a say in this.
