Chapter 24
Getting ready for a date is always a production—but when you’re getting ready for a date with your neighbor who has to share your bathroom, that makes it much more .
. . interesting. Lou actually created a schedule for tonight so we didn’t run into each other coming in or out of the bathroom to shower.
As I stand at the dresser in my room, finishing my makeup, my heart thumps in my chest. I haven’t been this excited or nervous for a date in .
. . maybe ever, honestly. I can’t help but think of the first time I got ready to go anywhere with Hunter.
I was so angry at him, so determined to make him regret rejecting me.
It feels like that date at the White Chocolate Grill was a lifetime ago, as if we’re different people than we were that night, even though it was only a few weeks ago.
Tonight, I’m wearing a black dress again, but not the one I still haven’t cleaned from when Hunter knocked the dessert into my chest. This one, I almost never wear because it has a V-neck, and you can see my scar.
For some reason, as I looked through my closet, trying to decide what to wear, I couldn’t stop looking at this dress.
I’ve always loved it. It’s sleeveless and has a slit that goes halfway up my thigh.
When I tried it on at the store, I felt sexy and powerful.
Like maybe I could stand next to Lou and not fade into the background.
I bought it . . . and promptly put it in the back of my closet.
I never took it out again because the one time I put it on before a date, all I could see was the ugly scar marring the skin on my chest. I’d pulled it off and never put it on again.
Until tonight.
A test, for Hunter. He says I can’t scare him off. And I want to believe him. Hence the dress. I want to feel sexy and powerful . . . and I want to see if he can manage to spend a whole night with my scar on display, a constant reminder for him, and still not freak out.
I finish applying my mascara and set the tube back in my makeup bag, next to the bottles of immunosuppressants that line my dresser.
Almost immediately, the familiar anxiety surges up, swallowing my excitement and regurgitating it as dread.
What am I thinking? There is no normal life for me.
There is no “chance at happiness.” Hunter needs to know what he’s—
“No.”
I actually say it out loud, the only way I know how to make the spiral stop. I stare at myself in the mirror.
“You are not sabotaging this,” I whisper quietly but firmly. I try to do what Talia did last night and replace my fears with other options. “You are healthy. You are a miracle.” I take a deep breath. “You deserve happiness. And so does Hunter.”
But what if he doesn’t like me that much? What if I’m working myself up into a frenzy, trying to think all positive and make myself believe I have a future worth fighting for, when he’s not interested in more than a date or two to help him get over his breakup and—
There’s a knock at my bedroom door. Crap, I can’t let him “pick me up” when I’m halfway to a panic attack.
“Just a minute!” I call out.
“It’s me,” Lou says back through the door. “Are you okay? It sounds like you’re talking to yourself in there . . .”
I walk over and open the door, relieved.
“You’re wearing the dress!” she exclaims when she sees me.
“Yes, I am. And yes, I was talking to myself. Trying to stay positive.”
Lou examines me more closely. “Based on the sweat beads on your forehead, I’m guessing it’s not going great?”
“I’m sweating?” I rush back over to the mirror and lean forward to inspect my hairline. Sure enough, it’s slightly damp. I groan.
Lou comes up behind me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to do what Talia said, but it’s not really working.”
“Maybe don’t worry about all that tonight. You only need to focus on this date—not your whole entire future. See how dinner goes, and if you have fun, you can go from there.”
I press my hand against my abdomen, which is doing acrobatics.
“You’re right. I’m totally getting ahead of myself.
For all I know, he won’t even want a second date.
I’m trying to convince myself that a lifetime of happiness is possible when he could ghost me tomorrow.
” I let out a laugh that borders on hysterical—even I can hear how unhinged it sounds.
Lou puts her hands on my shoulders and spins me to face her. “Olivia. Take a breath. You like him, and he likes you. You guys seem to make each other happy. Focus on that. Focus on getting to know him and deciding whether you want a second date. It’s not only up to him.”
I nod as I inhale slowly. “Okay.” I exhale. “Okay.”
“It’s dinner. And—” She gives me a once-over, her expression turning to horror when she gets to my feet. “What are those?”
“Dancing shoes?”
Lou looks like she’s about to gag. “Those look like something you would wear if you were in a middle-school play.”
I look down at my scuffed ballet flats. “He said to wear dancing shoes. I have no idea what that means.”
“Well, I guarantee he doesn’t mean those. With that dress? You really have lost it.” Lou shakes her head. “Hold, please.” She goes digging into my closet and emerges moments later with the tallest heels I own. “These are what you wear with that dress.”
“Those are not dancing shoes. Those are fall-and-break-your-ankle-if-you-try-to-dance-in-them heels.”
Lou shoves them toward me. “These are you-are-going-to-look-smoking-hot-and-he-won’t-care-if-you-can’t-dance-in-them heels. Now, put them on.”
I roll my eyes but do as she bids, the promise of looking smoking hot echoing in my mind.
I’ve barely straightened again when we both hear a knock at the door.
“I’ll go get it.” Lou winks at me.
I’m assailed by another fluttering of nerves as she skips down the stairs. For some reason, I assumed he’d meet me in the family room or something. I wasn’t expecting him to leave the duplex and pretend like he really is picking me up.
I’m standing at the top of the staircase when Lou swings the door open.
My heart leaps into my throat when I see Hunter standing on the porch in a light-gray, button-down shirt, open at the throat, with a black sport coat over it, and some dark-washed jeans.
He holds a bouquet of peonies and stares at me, seemingly as speechless as I am.
“You guys are too cute for words,” Lou says, breaking the spell.
“You can go now, Lou,” Hunter says as he steps into the front entryway and smirks.
“And miss your big—”
“Louise,” I shriek.
“Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” She spins and flashes me a thumbs--up before prancing off into the kitchen.
Hunter’s gaze is heat and hunger, tracing my dress down my legs to my sky-high heels as I carefully maneuver my way downstairs. When I reach the bottom, he’s waiting for me.
“You look . . . incredible.” His voice is pitched low, too quiet for Lou to hear from where she’s undoubtedly trying to eavesdrop in the kitchen.
He slides one arm around my waist, pulling me into his body in an embrace that makes my skin feel like I’ve suddenly caught fire.
He leans down to brush his nose through my hair, inhaling. “And you smell amazing too.”
His warm breath on my neck sends a delicious shiver down my spine. His touch and his words and the strength of his body drive all my fears away. Heady anticipation takes the place of all the negative thoughts I’ve battled for the last hour.
“You got me flowers,” I say, slightly breathless as we break apart. This is the spark I didn’t have with Austin. A mere hug has every nerve in my body buzzing.
“I did.” He smiles and hands them to me.
“Lou, you can come back and put these flowers in water for me.”
She emerges from the kitchen so quickly Hunter and I share a glance and both start laughing.
“What?” She fists her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at us.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Thanks.” I hand off the beautiful bouquet to her and then add with a wink, “Don’t wait up.”
Hunter and I are both laughing again as we quickly exit, leaving Lou standing in the front entryway, holding my flowers with her eyebrows lifted.
We’ve been driving for a few minutes when I ask, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He’s cryptic but throws me a cocksure grin.
“You’re making me nervous.”
When he reaches over and threads his fingers through mine, my heart skips up into my throat. “You don’t need to be nervous with me. We’re messy mates, remember?”
“Right.”
And he is right. I don’t know how to describe how I feel on this date.
Being with Hunter somehow feels like coming home.
Every time we’re together I feel more and more like I already know him and was only waiting for him to come back into my life—not getting to know him for the first time.
It’s both comforting and a little scary to feel so connected to him so quickly.
We drive through Scottsdale toward Tempe as the sun begins to set, and the city falls into dusk.
The passing headlights glow with unexpected beauty, casting fleeting spells across the road.
The BMW’s engine hums louder in my ears.
I’m hyper-aware of Hunter’s every move and breath.
When he starts stroking his thumb back and forth across the sensitive skin on the inside edge of my palm, a shiver races up my arm.
“Still nervous?” he asks, eyes fixed on the road as we weave through the Saturday-night traffic.
“No,” I say, a little breathless as his fingers skim higher to the soft underside of my wrist.
“Good.”