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“What are you going to wear?” Lizzy questioned with an arched eyebrow.
She was draped over her white furniture as usual in such a casual way I wondered just how it stayed so pristine.
“Can’t I just cancel?” I groaned, considering blowing the guy off for the millionth time.
It wasn’t like we’d ever met. Who could blame me? I’d just broken up with my fiancé a few short weeks ago.
Lizzy shook her head. “Not unless you want to explain it to my mother.”
Sighing, I headed to my room, directly to the closet. If I’d cared about meeting a Wilshire from the Park Avenue Wilshires, I might have borrowed something from Lizzy to wear. Still, I couldn’t make a bad impression and embarrass her family.
And no, I didn’t want to think about last night. Yet I was doing it anyway, my thoughts scattering. I had to get back to the matter at hand—a date had been made and needed to be kept, saving my best friend the trouble.
I put on a black pencil skirt, an emerald shirt that worked well with my hair color, and black heels and hoped he wasn’t short.
The doorman called to let us know my visitor was on his way up according to Lizzy, who’d popped into the bathroom to inspect me.
“You look good,” she said.
“Crap,” I said. “Maybe I should wear a sack.”
She laughed. “Give the poor guy a chance. He could be the one.”
“I’m not ready for the one,” I complained, yet I laughed along with her. She left to answer the door and entertain him while I finished up.
When I stepped into the living room, my bestie was flirting with my date, something she did well. After I got a glimpse of a cute guy with a dimple, I could see why. Maybe this evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Five
A car waited for us at the curb, and I was already impressed with the guy. He was a couple inches taller than me in heels. Check. His sandy brown hair was fashionably cut, not too short and not too long. He was easy on the eyes. Check.
If only I felt good about being out with a guy. I most certainly had fallen far from grace. Sleeping with a stranger one night and on a date with another the next all while knowing I’d been set to marry mere weeks ago. My father was right about me.
“I hope you don’t mind. I made reservations at the 21 Club,” he said, shattering my thoughts.
“Sounds good,” I replied, though I looked out the window trying too hard not to sound uninterested. He seemed nice and didn’t deserve my lack of enthusiasm. I touched my ring, grounding myself into the present.
He prattled on about how lucky he’d been to get the reservation. I’d only heard about the place and knew he wasn’t scrimping on our date.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, giving me a dimpled grin.
I forced a smile, wanting to enjoy tonight somehow.
“Thanks,” I said and managed to add, “You too.”
We walked into the main level of the restaurant, but were quickly led upstairs to a more intimate, romantic setting. Several tables were filled with guests quietly enjoying their meals. My date held my chair out for me—the guy was racking up points faster than I could count.
Everything so far was perfect. Or maybe my low expectations fueled the good feelings.
We were discussing the menu selections when the unthinkable happened. After a second glance, I was pretty sure my first and only one-night stand walked in with a tall, beautiful brunette on his arm. Involuntarily, I lifted my menu to hide my face as color filled my cheeks.
Although I couldn’t see my date, I heard the frown in his voice when he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, probably looking like a small child as I peered around the menu.
I needed to get it together. The stockbroker wasn’t stupid. He turned around, looking for who or what I may have seen. Thankfully, Mr. Fuck Me hadn’t once looked in my direction, seemingly focused on the woman across from him.
Although I was still partially hidden, my date was polite enough not to ask again. To ease some of the awkwardness, I peppered him with questions about what to choose for an entrée, giving me cause for my position behind the menu. Hopefully to him, I appeared to be studying the options instead of masking my face behind a barrier.
Dumbly, I realized I would have to put my menu down before the waiter approached to take our order. Reluctantly, I did. My one-night stand continued not to notice me, and after a while I relaxed into conversation.
Retrospectively, it had been dark last night and we’d both been drinking. Maybe my one-time mistake didn’t remember me, or so I told myself. He obviously didn’t have problems getting women.
