Page 69 of The Mr. Right Checklist

She gazes up at me with a sweet expression. “Thank you for dancing with me. I was missing my family tonight something awful, remembering when we used to go to concerts like this back home. When Marshall showed up, I kept hoping you would, too, and when Arjun texted, I was dyin’ to give you the good news.”

I feel bad for staying away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you decided to take a walk.”

Guilt sneaks up on me. “I have a confession to make about that. Molly and I weren’t just out for a walk. Marshall called and told me you were here. That’s why we came.”

Her lips quirk up. “Because of Marshall? Why? Were you worried you might lose your date for the wedding?”

She doesn’t know how close to right she is, but we don’t make sense in the long run, so I simply say, “Something like that.”

“Well, don’t worry about that. What kind of friend would I be if I ditched our date for another guy? Besides, I miss my family so much, I’m looking forward to meeting yours.”

My gut twists at the longing in her voice. I want so badly to ease that pain, and there’s a solution staring me in the face. “You miss your family, and”—I miss you when we’re not together—“I’m having dinner with mine next Friday for my father’s birthday. Why don’t you come with me? My mother’s been asking to meet you, and it would be a good way for you to get to know them before the chaos of the wedding.”

“It’s his birthday? We used to have the funnest birthdays. My parents believed your birthday was one of the most important days of the year, because it’s not just the birthday boy or girl who has something to celebrate. It’s the whole family’s special day.”

“What did you do to celebrate?”

“For my birthday, they’d wake me up just after midnight, and we’d celebrate with balloons and a mile-high cake, and then I’d get to choose what we did for the entire day. And on their birthdays, my mom would wake me up to decorate for my dad after he went to sleep, and he’d do the same for hers. And no matter whose birthday it was, we’d all stay up until midnight, but I usually fell asleep before then.”

“That sounds really special. You must miss it.”

“I do, more than you can imagine. But one day I’ll carry on that tradition with my own family.”

“You’re going to make a great mother.” That’s another thing that sets us apart. No marriage means no kids for me, a good reminder to try to keep things in perspective. “When is your birthday?”

“August seventh. When’s yours?”

“November twelfth.”

“A Scorpio. That makes sense.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re as smart as they are loyal and as shrewd as they are stoic. They like to keep people guessing, and they don’t rely on anyone else’s approval. That’s you, my friend, while I’m a Leo.”

“Which means?”

“You tell me,” she challenges.

I don’t even have to think about my response. “You’re confident, positive, passionate. Definitely determined, and you have a penchant for colorful socks.”

She laughs. “I do.”

“Why socks?”

“I don’t know. They make me happy.”

How can happiness be so simple in the eyes of a woman who has lost so much? “If I let you wear your colorful socks, will you come to dinner with my family?”

“I would love to, but are you sure I won’t be imposing?”

“I’m positive.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, but you have to promise me that if I like them as much as I like you, then when we stage our breakup, we’ll do it in a way that doesn’t make them hate me. Can we do that? Because it would make me sad to become friends at dinner and then feel like I can never see them again because they think poorly of me.”

My gut knots up, and that guilt slithers in again. “I’d never let anyone think poorly of you.”