Page 47 of Fall Love

“And?” Lumi rolls her finger in the air, prompting me to fill in more. “He came over the other day.”

I glance down at the mug of coffee I can’t drink and slump back in my chair. “It was nothing. We went apple picking and ate your baked ziti, and he didn’t kiss me.”

I glance up, shocked that I said all that I said, to meet two sets of eyes equally surprised staring back at me.

“You had baked ziti?” Isolde asks, whipping her focus from me to Lumi.

“Why do you sound upset that he didn’t kiss you?” Lumi tilts her head. “Are you upset?”

“Of course not.” I huff, crossing my arms over my belly.

“Of course you are,” Isolde counters, looking back at me. “I’m no expert on relationships, but who wouldn’t want a man like him to kiss her?”

“Excuse me?” I state, defensively, making a mental note that my sister seems a little too eager to want to kiss Tate.

“I’m just saying, he’s good-looking and seems nice. Not like Landon.”

I arch one brow. Landon. The guy who totally wants to kiss you. I don’t ask. I’m not looking for a fight or to compare one cousin to the other.

“What Isolde might mean,” Lumi begins, glancing from our younger sister to me. “Is that Tate obviously cares about you?”

“How do you know?” I ask, losing my defenses. “Because he took me apple picking and ate dinner with me? That doesn’t mean he cares.”

“Sounds like a date,” Isolde offers, and I hate how I’d already had the same thought.

After the kiss that didn’t happen, Tate stayed for dinner. I expected it to be awkward. A certain tension from the failure and the sexual edginess that lingered. But Tate served us baked ziti like nothing happened, because nothing happened, and we hung out chatting like we had earlier in the day.

He told me more about his experiences at medical school. And I told him how I never went to college. How the garage had been my education.

I expected him to judge me, being an Ivy League kind of guy, but he didn’t. He just listened. Told me it sounded like Dad and I had great adventures, along with a little contention.

A long time ago, I’d wanted to make the upgrades I imagine Bucky Beaver Body Shop will soon make.

I shake the thought of changes to come and futures taking a new direction when Lumi says, “That’s a start.”

“What’s a start?” I ask.

“A date. That getting-to-know-someone moment.”

“A date is torture,” I counter, but the bluster isn’t as fierce when I consider how easy it had been with Tate. We ate. We laughed. We did the dishes.

He left.

We baked the pie, but I was too stuffed to eat any of it. I told him he should take it. He did more work than I did. He told me to keep it. It’d be an excuse to come back over. Only, I haven’t heard from him in two days.

He’s probably counting his commission as we speak.

The thought wasn’t fair, but I was still a little salty about the sale. And the lack of a call from him. Or a text. I didn’t know the rules of dating because I didn’t date. And being as pregnant as I am, about to embark on single motherhood, I didn’t expect to start dating anytime soon.

“Hasn’t he called you?” Isolde asks, her voice sympathetic again.

“No.” The answer is hard and quick and seems to say it all. He didn’t call because he isn’t sticking around. He got what he wanted, and now he’s gone.

I sigh, fighting the sudden sting at the back of my eyes. I will not cry over Tate Love.

Lumi stares at me, assessing me, but there’s nothing to assess.

“I’m fine,” I mutter.