7. Mary
Seven
Mary
I meet Kai at Our Lady of Grace Church because unlike him, I'm not actually here to play Bingo or flirt with the mostly over sixty-five crowd.
I'm here to work.
Every weekend, one of the faculty members from the parish’s school, Our Lady of Grace Academy, helps run the church Bingo fundraiser.
Usually, it's a pretty easy assignment.
Set up tables.
Help sell cards.
Keep track of winners.
Make sure nobody tries to claim Bingo when they only have four numbers in a row.
You'd be surprised how often that happens.
This week just happens to be my turn.
Kai volunteered to be our caller because apparently God enjoys irony, and our regular caller, Mr. Giancarlo, is home sick with a sore throat.
The man has been calling Bingo for over thirty years and never called out.
Thirty.
Years.
Which means every single person in town knows his voice.
And tonight they're getting Kai Montego instead.
Lord, help us all.
I stand near the stage area, nervously tapping my foot as volunteers finish arranging tables and folding chairs.
The parish hall is already filling up.
Retirees.
Parents.
Business owners.
School alumni.
A few town council members.
Church ladies.
One of the editors from our local paper, the Verona Patch.
Half of Verona, New Jersey.
Exactly the kind of crowd I’m beginning to think Kai wants.
Which is probably why I'm nervous.
Okay.
Not probably.
Definitely.
I glance down at my outfit.
Black flare pants that stop just above my ankles.
Black flats.
A fitted emerald-green top with a scoop neckline.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing exciting.
Professional.
Comfortable.
Appropriate.
The kind of outfit I've worn a hundred times.
Yet somehow tonight it feels different.
Because tonight I’m on my first fake date in my new fake relationship.
Which is ridiculous.
But I mean Kai is going to see it.
And I’m, well, a teeny bit nervous.
Completely ridiculous.
But look, I'm a thirty-four year old single schoolteacher—not some skinny twenty year old with a bazillion online followers.
I should absolutely not care what a man thinks about my clothes.
Especially not a man I'm supposedly dating.
And definitely not a man who keeps texting me ludicrous crap all day long.
Things like this here.
Kai/Tough Guy
You ever notice nuns walk faster than everybody else?
Or this one.
Kai/Tough Guy
I saw a squirrel steal an entire bagel today. Thought you'd want a pic. >
Or my personal favorite from yesterday.
Kai/Tough Guy
If Die Hard isn't a Christmas movie then neither is Home Alone. Need your opinion right now.
The man is exhausting.
And—though it pains me to admit—he’s also somewhat hilarious.
I hate that I look forward to his texts.
And I hate even more that I’m looking forward to seeing him tonight.
“Hello there, Miss Donahue. What a nice pair of slacks!” Mrs. Montgomery says as she pushes her walker to her favorite table.
“Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery. Lots of luck tonight,” I reply with a genuine smile.
The doors open.
A fresh blast of cold March air sweeps into the hall.
People begin filing inside.
I busy myself with making sure the Bingo cards are all ready to go, and the cashier has enough change.
I fiddle with the stack of volunteer’s name tags.
The attendance sheets.
The cash box.
Anything to stop thinking about Kai.
It's working beautifully.
Right up until a familiar deep voice says, “Hey there, Firecracker.”
My stomach immediately performs a gymnastics routine.
Gulp.
I look up.
And promptly forget how words work.
What the hey now?
Oh no.
Kai is dressed nicely.
Not suit nice.
Not black tie nice.
But still—he looks really, really nice.
Good even.
Dark jeans.
Brown boots.
A white button-down stretched across broad shoulders.
The shirt is just thin enough for me to make out the inky tattoos swirling across his body—more art than act of defiance.
The sleeves are rolled to his forearms.
And—holy shit, that’s hot—apparently forearms are a thing now.
Who knew?
Certainly not me.
Definitely not me.
His close cropped, dark hair is slightly damp. Like he showered recently.
His jaw is freshly shaven.
And when he smiles?
Well.
Let’s just say I freeze like a deer in headlights because, wow, that smile is really something else.
It’s going to be a long night.