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His head tips to the side.

“Those are two vastly different things—making pizzas and doing makeup.”

“I know,” I agree, then I clear my throat. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a plastic surgeon.” I can totally see that. He’s perfect-looking, all beauty and class—from his hair to his custom suit to the expensive watch on his wrist and his polished shoes.

Why-oh-why can’t I have a thing for fancy suits and polished shoes? Why do I have to be obsessed with worn T-shirts, faded jeans, and boots?

“Do you like it?” I ask, shoving Antonio out of my head once more.

“I do,” he says. I can tell by the light that hits his eyes that there is more to it than him just being a plastic surgeon for socialites.

“Why?” I question.

His expression softens. “I specialize in reconstructive surgery for children. There is nothing better than changing the life of a child with a deformity, knowing that I’ve had a hand in making them feel better about themselves.”

“That’s amazing,” I say quietly, knowing that’s an understatement. In today’s world, looks seem to be everything, and I’m sure that he’s making a huge difference in the lives of the children he helps.

“Thank you.”

“So tell me . . . how do you know Palo?”

“He’s been doing my mom’s hair for years. The last time I came into town, we got to talking, and he told me that there was a woman I needed to meet the next time I was in the city. Here we are.”

“You don’t live here?”

“I live in Los Angeles.”

Of course he does. Of course the first blind date I’ve been on that doesn’t have me wanting to sneak out the window in the bathroom is with a man who lives all the way across the country.

“Have you ever been?”

“No, I’ve lived my entire life in New York. I grew up on Long Island, and my dad’s a cop. He worked a lot, so we didn’t get to travel much when I was younger.”

“You need to experience LA at least once in your life.”

“Why’s that?”

“The weather is nicer, the beaches are beautiful, and we have some of the best restaurants in the world.”

“And movie stars?” I say, watching him laugh.

“There’s also that,” he agrees.

“Maybe someday I’ll make my way over there.”

His face softens right before the waiter comes over to ask us for our drink orders.

“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Walter as we leave the restaurant. “I had a really nice time.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to see you again?” he asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I . . .”

God, I’ve had such a great time with him. He’s so easy to talk to, so easy to be around. But I know he’s not what I want.

“I’m sorry.” I duck my head. “I . . . There’s a guy.”

I feel his body tense, and I look up at him.

“He hates me.” I laugh without humor as tears fill my eyes. “Well, I’m pretty sure he hates me, anyway, and I’ve had a crush on him forever. It’s stupid because he’s a jerk. Still . . .”

“Shit,” he mutters.

I press my lips together. “I know it’s stupid. Believe me, I know it is.” I shake my head and look down at the sidewalk. “I just . . .”

“Follow your heart, Libby.” His softly spoken words cut me off and pull my attention back to him. “It kills me to say that after sitting across from you and enjoying your company for the last two hours, but follow your heart.” He touches his lips to my cheek. “If that guy doesn’t see how amazing you are, fuck him. You can find better.”

“Thank you, Walter.” I smile up at him, and his eyes scan my face for a long moment before he shakes his head and takes my elbow gently in his hand.

He leads me to the edge of the sidewalk; then he raises his hand for a cab. When one pulls up, he helps me into the back seat and gives me another soft kiss on my cheek before he shuts my door. Waving at him through the window, I flash him an awkward smile before the cab pulls away from the curb.

Sitting forward, I wonder what’s wrong with me. The date was awesome. No, better than awesome. Still, there were a hundred moments throughout dinner that I thought about Antonio. I couldn’t even think about exploring things with Walter.

When the cab pulls up outside my building, I get out and head into my empty apartment. The space seems even quieter than it has since Mac started staying the night with Wesley. It makes me feel suddenly lonely. I think about taking a long hot bath but instead change into my pajamas, get a glass of wine, and plant myself in front of the TV. I watch a scary movie until I eventually fall asleep.

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