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“You better be ready to tell me every single detail. I’m talking about facial expressions, the amount of sighing, and every word said. A real play-by-play.”

I reach for the handle and offer her a salute. “No bomb-making.”

Lexie blows me a kiss as I suck in a fortifying breath and let it out in one smooth exhale.

Opening statement: Introduce myself. I go through the steps as I enter the tinted oversize doors leading to the hostess stand. Second statement: Immediately dive into extensive details on why my father is, quite simply, the best man in the world—who will make a perfect husband. I give the hostess my dad’s name and he leads me away from the indoor seating and out a side door to the fenced patio.

Third statement: Apologize for the lie and explain that it was me messaging her all weekend. The hostess places me by a long outdoor heater, and for a moment I watch the flame swirl around inside it. I loosen the tan scarf around my neck at the sudden breeze of warmth. Fourth statement: Allow her to voice her concerns and reservations.

The young waiter approaches me and takes my order for an extra sweet hot chocolate. Final statement: Address all her concerns and persuade her that in the long run, how it started matters less than the end result and convince her if I loved my father so much to set this all up for him, surely it means he’s worthy of a single date.

And that’s all the push he’d need, I’m sure. The rest will be up to him.

The waiter returns with my drink and I sip on it, trying to think of anything Ellie might come up with during this meeting. Like with my mock trials. The best way to win is to be two steps ahead, to know what your opponent is going to say and have something to combat that—thinking of what I would say if I were them and what would convince me.

I’m halfway through my drink when my nails begin to tap against the mug. I was fifteen minutes early, which, to me, is on time, but now thirty minutes have passed and there are no signs of the woman with flowing brown hair and bright green eyes. I send her a message asking where she is.

Values promptness was written on her profile, and I added that to the list of pros I wrote down for her in my notebook at home, detailed with all the matches I talked to. Family-oriented, creative painter, and lover of photography and animals were among the other things she described herself as.

My mug is empty by the time I start opening up different apps and scrolling. I’m trying not to be annoyed. It won’t be a good first impression—especially with the whole Hey, so Fernando isn’t coming. He actually has no idea who you are, but anyway, I’m his daughter. Can you still date him? So, I keep my attitude in check.

I order another drink and rub my heavy eyes. If I had known I’d have this free time, I’d have brought my notes to study for tomorrow’s pop quiz that is continually scheduled every Monday at ten in the morning. History is one of my easier subjects, but still, I use my dying phone to search up Martin Luther and refresh my memory on everything about the Protestant Reformation.

When I finished my second drink and checked the time—an hour from the scheduled date—I opened the gate that was preventing my mounting agitation. When it floods through me, burning at the very ends of my fingertips, I pull up the dating app and go to Ellie and my messages.

If something came up, you could have at least messaged me is my first message. Though I don’t see what could be so urgent that you’d ghost someone completely. Unless you were in an accident—that’s the only possible excuse that will be acceptable.

Okay, too far. Sorry, I hope you weren’t in an accident, but you’re being an asshole here.

Calling someone an asshole may also be too far, but I excuse myself, knowing if Lexie were here, it would be a lot worse than that.

The waiter comes over and asks if I’m still waiting for someone, and it’s his look of pure sympathy that sends me straight up. I slam a twenty on the table and nearly choke myself with my scarf as I hurriedly storm away.

It’s one thing to ghost me, but technically this no-show is an insult to my dad. It doesn’t matter if it’s unbeknownst to him. I know this, and I love my dad more than myself, so fury burns at the bottoms of my feet as I move.

As I maneuver around tables, I continue to write my messages to Ellie, ready to block her when I’m finished letting all the anger out. Too focused on typing, my hip knocks into tables and my foot into chairs as I try to reach the exit leading to the parking lot. Each pain ricocheting through my bones only makes my next messages even more unhinged.

Distantly, I hear my name, which makes me freeze mid-stride. A hard body knocks into me from behind, shoving me forward. Arms wrap around me and lift me up before my face joins my phone as it smacks onto the concrete. Thank God Lexie gave me her spare screen protector.

“Whoa, are you okay?” a familiar voice says as I pull away and spin on my heel. “Sorry, you were moving so fast and went still even quicker, I couldn’t stop.” Theo, in an oversize jean jacket, rubs his shoulder where—if the throbbing on my own shoulder is any indication—it knocked into my body. “I knew it was you.”

I blink. “What are you doing here?”

He looks around. “Living?”

“I’m not in the mood for you,” I snap, turning away.

He grabs my hand and pulls me back to face him. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you want to commit murder.”

“Keep holding on to me and you’ll find out.”

He rolls his eyes but lets me go and bends down. The image of him doing the same thing days ago in the hallway, asking for my hand in marriage, builds circles of heat into my cheeks as I step away.

“You dropped this…” he says, and trails off as he frowns at my phone. “ ‘Espero que te ahogues con tu propio escupitajo,’ ” he reads in a horrendous accent. “What does that mean?”

My eyes widen, and I try to snatch the phone away, but he turns his back toward me and continues to read. “Wait, what the hell?”

“Hey,” I yell, wrapping one arm around him to keep him in place, trying to grab my phone with the other. He holds it up, his height putting it too far for me to reach, and tilts his head as he reads the messages.