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Thus, I find myself dutifully entrenched at the prescribed corner table in a hometown eatery as Claire has instructed, fiddling with the straw in my glass of ice water and waiting for my date to show up for lunch. Butterflies battle with what must be an army of angry snakes in my gut.
But.
For longer than I care to admit, I have been reminded on a near-daily basis how badly I failed at Claire’s last setup, and I am determined to give this one my best effort. I can’t help ruminating on all the mistakes I made that night.
I am not that person anymore.
I own my pain and acknowledge my past.
I will be kind and attentive and—
The bell on the restaurant door jingles, and my nerves ratchet up in response. This might be my date.
I can’t look. I stare at my menu.
Maybe it isn’t my date.
Maybe he isn’t coming.
Footsteps approach and slow. Keeping my eyes down, I cast up a prayer that he isn’t creepy.
“Grace.” It’s not a question. The voice is deep and attractive and excruciatingly familiar.
My head lifts so my eyes can confirm what my ears already know.
“Noah?” It’s all I can get out.
His face is inscrutable, his jaw covered in the same roguish three-day beard that he wore on our first date, his brows furrowed the way they do when he’s translating math into English. “I think my friend and your sister have sadistic tendencies.” He tips his head, and his hazel eyes soften, questioning.
My heart is pounding. It is so good to see him here. So good. I still haven’t recovered my ability to speak.
“Would you rather... not?” One side of his mouth ticks up, nervous, self-mocking against my silence.
With a mental slap to myself, I recover my ability to speak. “No! I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t expecting...”
“Me.”
“No. Yes. I mean, I wasn’t expecting you, but I—” I can sense his walls going up, and I scramble to steal some of his bricks. “Please stay. I’d love it if you would stay.” I pull my menu toward me and motion for him to sit across from me in the booth.
He hesitates, so I smile, though it probably looks pinched, with my emotions all haywire.
Noah.
Claire set me up with Noah.
Again.
“Can I get you something to drink?” our server says.
Noah asks for a water, and she leaves.
I pretend to focus on my menu until I can’t handle the quiet. He’s watching me when I look up.
“I’m sorry about you and Alec.”
I can tell he’s waiting to see how sorryIam about it. “I’m not,” I say. Some of his worry eases, but I feel a flash of guilt. “I mean, he’s a great guy. Just not for me. I mean, we weren’t right for each other.” Such eloquence.
He tilts his head and is about to say something, but I interrupt.
