There’s a knock at my bedroom door. Crap, I can’t let him “pick me up” when I’m halfway to a panic attack.
“Just a minute!” I call out.
“It’s me,” Lou says back through the door. “Are you okay? It sounds like you’re talking to yourself in there ...”
I walk over and open the door, relieved.
“You’re wearing the dress!” she exclaims when she sees me.
“Yes, I am. And yes, I was talking to myself. Trying to stay positive.”
Lou examines me more closely. “Based on the sweat beads on your forehead, I’m guessing it’s not going great?”
“I’msweating?” I rush back over to the mirror and lean forward to inspect my hairline. Sure enough, it’s slightly damp. I groan.
Lou comes up behind me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to do what Talia said, but it’s not really working.”
“Maybe don’t worry about all that tonight. You only need to focus on this date—not your whole entire future. See how dinner goes, and if you have fun, you can go from there.”
I press my hand against my abdomen, which is doing acrobatics. “You’re right. I’m totally getting ahead of myself. For all I know, he won’t even want a second date. I’m trying to convince myself that a lifetime of happiness is possible when he could ghost me tomorrow.” I let out a laugh that borders on hysterical—even I can hear how unhinged it sounds.
Lou puts her hands on my shoulders and spins me to face her. “Olivia. Take a breath. You like him, and he likes you. You guys seem to make each other happy. Focus on that.Focus on getting to know him and deciding whetheryouwant a second date. It’s not only up to him.”
I nod as I inhale slowly. “Okay.” I exhale. “Okay.”
“It’s dinner. And—” She gives me a once-over, her expression turning to horror when she gets to my feet. “Whatare those?”
“Dancing shoes?”
Lou looks like she’s about to gag. “Those look like something you would wear if you were in a middle-school play.”
I look down at my scuffed ballet flats. “He said to wear dancing shoes. I have no idea what that means.”
“Well, I guarantee he doesn’t meanthose. With that dress? You really have lost it.” Lou shakes her head. “Hold, please.” She goes digging into my closet and emerges moments later with the tallest heels I own. “These are what you wear with that dress.”
“Those arenotdancing shoes. Those are fall-and-break-your-ankle-if-you-try-to-dance-in-them heels.”
Lou shoves them toward me. “These are you-are-going-to-look-smoking-hot-and-he-won’t-care-if-you-can’t-dance-in-them heels. Now, put them on.”
I roll my eyes but do as she bids, the promise of looking smoking hot echoing in my mind.
I’ve barely straightened again when we both hear a knock at the door.
“I’ll go get it.” Lou winks at me.
I’m assailed by another fluttering of nerves as she skips down the stairs. For some reason, I assumed he’d meet me in the family room or something. I wasn’t expecting him to leave the duplex and pretend like he really is picking me up.
I’m standing at the top of the staircase when Lou swings the door open. My heart leaps into my throat when I seeHunter standing on the porch in a light-gray, button-down shirt, open at the throat, with a black sport coat over it, and some dark-washed jeans. He holds a bouquet of peonies and stares at me, seemingly as speechless as I am.
“You guys are too cute for words,” Lou says, breaking the spell.
“You can go now, Lou,” Hunter says as he steps into the front entryway and smirks.
“And miss your big—”
“Louise,” I shriek.
