Page 84 of The Wilder Widows

“See you soon.”

“Bye, Tom.” I turned on my heel and started away.

“Hey, Sylvie?” he called, and I stopped and turned back.

“Leave the scarf and sunglasses at the hotel. You look much better without them.”

A girlish giggle slipped past my lips, and I gave him a quick nod. Trying to refrain from skipping, I hurried back to the widows waiting in the back of the cop car. I climbed inside, squeezing into the back with Marge and Doris. Alice spun around in the front, staring at me through the metal partition.

“Well?” she asked, and all three sets of expectant eyes bore through me.

“We’re having dinner.” I grinned so wide I thought my face may tear.

“Whoo hoo!” Marge hooted, punching her fist in the air.

I glanced out the window as the car pulled away, and Tom held my gaze as I passed him by.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The widows stood down in the lobby with me while I paced back and forth, the red high heels I’d borrowed from Alice click-clacking across the tile floor.

“Is this really happening?” I panted, trying to control my breathing. All the confidence I’d mustered for those few moments earlier had vanished the moment I was out from under his familiar gaze.

“You’ve got this, Sylvie.” Marge took me by the shoulders and gave me a soft shake. “Just take a deep breath.”

I inhaled and exhaled with her.

“You’re going to have an amazing time, Sylvie. He’s your true love.” Doris smiled.

Alice nodded her agreement. “You’d better get yourself a hootie. That is one serious silver fox.”

“Would you stop!” I laughed, tapping her on the shoulder. “It’s just dinner.”

“It’s just dinner... with your true love.” Sparkles filled Doris’s eyes once again.

“You’re only making me more nervous. I’m freaking out!”

“Sorry,” Doris said. “But he is. He’s your true love! I know it!”

“Doris,” I warned. “Would you—”

“Hi, Sylvie.”

I froze when his gravelly voice drifted over me.

Shit.

Doris’s wide eyes stared over my shoulder, and I turned around to see Tom leaning against the lobby wall. Jeans that fit too well stretched over long, muscular legs, and a casual suit coat left open over his white t-shirt revealed the fit physique I’d been admiring earlier.

Did he just hear all that?

The amusement dancing in his eyes answered that question.

“Hi, Tom.” Straightening my back like a rigid rod, I tried to pretend the last thirty seconds hadn’t just been broadcast to the man standing only fifteen feet away. He was older now. Maybe he had hearing loss, I thought to myself, trying to stave off the panic.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, casting that charming smile to the widows behind me.

“Hi, Tom,” they echoed, and I could hear the drone of their voices. We were busted, and no amount of lying to myself would change that.