Page 61 of The Do-Over

Mimi hooted, loud enough for more than a few heads to turn our way. “That’s my girl.”

“The position will be open sometime this fall. Chuck called me in today to talk about it.”

“You’ll get it.” Mathias shot her a small, congratulatory smile. Phee met his eyes and her cheeks pinked. For a moment, they both seemed to forget anyone else was around them.

“Now, it’s not a done deal,” Joel Allen said, selecting another piece of pizza like it was a prom date. “Don’t want to get your hopes up.”

Phee frowned. “Chuck said I was a shoo-in.”

“Things happen.” He flashed his news anchor smile, all white teeth and lies. “Besides, there are a lot of things going on in our lives right now. Maybe a change at work isn’t a good idea.”

Phee crossed her arms. “I guess we’ll see.”

Soon after, Nate announced he had to get Lilah home for bed. I walked with the two of them to the shoe return counter and waited while Lilah ducked into the bathroom next door.

“I can’t thank you enough for tonight. I think they actually bought it,” I said when we were alone.

“You think so?”

“Totally. In a few weeks, I’ll make sure we break up. And don’t worry, it will be all my fault.” That wouldn’t be hard to manufacture. Plus, I would have an excuse to eat more ice cream and Mom would buy it without blinking an eye. Win-win-win.

Nate raised an eyebrow. “I’m just not sure your grandmother believes us.”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? Mimi might cry when we split.”

“But just in case,” he said.

The back of his hand brushed my cheek. I startled.

“Are they looking?” He gently turned me to face him.

“Who?”

“Your family. Are they looking?” He cupped my cheek, spearing my eyes with his. I glanced over his shoulder.

“Yes,” I said, my voice a little breathless.

He smiled. “Good.”

And then, right there in the middle of Main Street Bowling Alley under the prying eyes of my family, friends, and most of Hope House, Nate Russo kissed me.

TWENTY-FOUR

“All a woman needs is a man who treats her like an angel

and kisses like the Devil.”

—MIMI

On my list of Things I Did Not Want to Do on a Saturday morning, wedding dress shopping with Momzilla-of-the-Bride was number one. But as I was now avoiding Nate for the rest of my natural life, this seemed like a solid choice. Although it put me right in the crosshairs of my mother. It was a lose-lose situation all around.

“Persephone, what in heavens are you wearing?” my mother demanded as soon as I arrived.

With a frown, I glanced down at the bright yellow peasant top and light-wash jeans. “Clothes?”

Scowling, Mom patted her pale pink blouse, certainly raw silk. “It’s not really appropriate attire for wedding dress shopping.”

“There’s a dress code for wedding dress shopping? I might have to elope.”