Page 86 of Here We Go Again

“You too.” I lift my hand to his shoulder, brushing my fingers along the soft linen of his shirt. “Is this new?”

“Do you like it? The sales guy was pretty persuasive.”

“I do,” I say. “Very island appropriate.”

He holds out the flowers. “For you. Zinnias and something else. Freesia, I think? That’s the one that smells good.”

“They’re beautiful.”

He turns, lifting a hand to the small of my back and guiding me to the car.

I have half a mind to glance into the boutique and see if our mothers are watching, but I ignore the impulse. If they are, I don’t want to know. I’m already nervous enough. I don’t need their hopeful expressions making me feel even more pressure to get this right.

“You okay?” Theo asks before closing my car door.

I nod. “Just nervous.”

He grins. “Me too. You’d think we’ve never done this before.” He closes my door, then jogs around the car to his side.

“Never dated in general?” I ask once he’s inside, the air conditioning on full blast to fight the August heat. “Or never dated each other?”

“Based on my nerves, neither one,” he says. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re here. That you agreed.”

Once we’re inside, I shift in my seat so I can more fully face him, watching as he eases the car away from the curb and pulls into traffic. He really does look so handsome—almost painfully so—and my heart flips over in my chest.

“Can I ask you something?” I say, suddenly curious.

“Sure. Anything,” he says.

“When did you decide you wanted to ask me out?”

His eyebrows lift. “You mean for tonight? Or just generally?”

“Both, I guess? Is it a different answer?”

Theo stops at the next light, then looks over and meets my gaze, holding it for a long moment before he says, “Yesterday’s decision to ask you out was pretty spur-of-the-moment. I was trying hard to comply with your wishes, since you said you weren’t interested. But generally…” His words trail off and he smiles, his expression chagrined. “I only had to hear your voice again to know I wanted another chance.”

Heat spreads across my chest, extending out to my fingertips, and I smile for the rest of the drive.

We have dinner at a tiny seafood place on the edge of the island. Our table is right by an enormous window, giving us a perfect view of the sun as it drops dramatically into the gulf. The sky turns a vibrant orange, shifting the clouds dotting the horizon into hazy strips of pink and purple.

The food is spectacular, unpretentious but perfectly prepared, and the atmosphere is intimate, just private enough that we don’t have to struggle to hear each other over the din of the restaurant around us.

Conversation is easy during dinner. I tell Theo about spending the day with our mothers and the way we all cackled when the barista who served our lattes wouldn’t stop hitting on Kim.

“You might not need to worry about Hector Villanova,” I tell him, “but there’s bound to be someone eventually. Your mom’s a catch.”

He shows me the pictures Carter sent earlier this afternoon of him and Sarah with their nieces, Poppy and Olive, holding ice cream cones. The girls are clearly laughing at Carter, who has a dab of ice cream on the tip of his nose. There’s another of baby Fiona in Sarah’s arms, not so tiny now, her toothy grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Sarah’s beautiful,” I say. “I remember thinking that when I met her.”

Theo puts down his napkin. “I forgot that you met her.”

“We had a whole conversation,” I say. “Though I’m not sure I made the best impression. I was pretty emotional the night of your surgery. Rambly, a bit weepy, and basically incoherent.” I let out a little laugh. “I can’t imagine what they all thought.”

“That I was an idiot to ever let you go,” he says. “That’s what they thought.”

“Well, I’m glad we have that established,” I say, and Theo smiles.