13. Chapter Thirteen
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asks.
“It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’m here for a blind date.” I peer around the guests seated nearby but don’t see a man in a dark blue jacket.
She perks up. “I know just where you’re going. Follow me.” She waves and starts walking toward the back of the restaurant without a backward glance to see if I’m following. I hurry after her, doing a weird jog-step to keep up with her long gait.
My heart is racing—whether from the mini workout I just did or my nervous anticipation at who my date is, I don’t know.
The hostess comes to a stop and steps aside. With a deep breath, I look up and…my eyes go wide.
Oh no.
It’s impossible.
My blind date can’t be with Tyler freaking Reed.
Except, he’s wearing a deep blue jacket, just like Darla told me my date would. Tyler also asked me to babysit tonight because he said something came up, and Darla arranged this at the last minute. With the blank stare Tyler’s giving me, it appears he didn’t know who he was meeting here either.
I feel a plethora of emotions all at once—like all the emotions from Inside Out are in my head, battling for control of how I’m feeling. But I think disgust wins out.
Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can turn around and bolt back to my car, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.
“Here’s your blind date.” The hostess grins, looking very invested in our nonexistent love story. She pulls out a slip of paper from her pocket. “Darla said she hopes you all have fun and don’t do anything she wouldn’t.” The young hostess blushes. “Which she wanted us to say isn’t very much.”
Tyler is in an awkward half-sitting, half-standing position when he rasps, “What are you doing here, Kelsey?”
The hostess raises her eyebrows, looking like she’d much rather stay and hear all the drama play out than get back to work. I’m sure we look like a reality television show, one I really don’t want to be the star of. She moves as slowly as a sloth away from our table until Tyler and I are left alone in awkward silence.
Tyler stands to his full height, waiting for an answer to his question. I shake my head, trying to clear my brain of the shockwave flooding through it. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
“I’m meeting a blind date,” he says.
“So am I.” I place my hands on my hips, frustrated that I didn’t run when I still had the chance. “Please don’t tell me Darla’s your aunt.”
Tyler nods. He sits back down with a groan and reaches for a glass of water, chugging half of it in two large gulps. “My great-aunt.”
“How? She’s so fun and you’re so…” I gesture to him. “You.”
“You sure know how to boost a guy’s ego.”
“I think the ladies at the dance studio gave you your annual boost.” I motion to the table. “You’re welcome to invite one of them to meet you here instead. I’m sure they’d give you an evening you’d never forget.”
He cringes. “Don’t remind me. I’ve had nightmares about their comments.”
I move to leave when I hear the scraping of chair legs on the wood floor.
“Wait,” Tyler says. I glance back at him. “What am I supposed to tell Darla?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not to set you up on a blind date with your neighbor and nanny.”
“Okay, let’s not look at it like a date.”
I cross my arms around my middle, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “You think we should stay?”
He shrugs. “I already made Evie dinner. You’d be proud. It was macaroni and cheese—the boxed kind.”
“Wow.” I look up at the ceiling.
His eyes move upward, then back to me. “What’re you doing?”
“Looking for the flying pigs.”
“Hilarious.” He rubs the back of his neck, and I remember when he did the same motion in my house and the way his muscles rippled—it must be his nervous tick.
My eyes move to his arm, which is covered by his jacket tonight, saving me from staring at his muscles again. I drag my gaze back to his face to find his smug grin.
“I can take the jacket off if you’re missing the view.” He stands and shrugs it off.
“Hard pass.”
“As rock hard as my chest?” He smirks.
I stalk over to him, poking his chest, which does, in fact, feel more like stone than flesh. I yank my jammed finger back and hold it. “You hurt me.”
“You’re the one who decided to pick a fight with my muscles.”
I take a step closer, unwilling to back down. “Stop talking about your muscles.”
“I’ll stop talking about them when you stop touching and staring at them.” He folds his arms across his chest, making the rippling, veiny muscles return. My eyes move to them. “Ah, ah, ah. There you go again.” He leans down and tips my chin up. “My eyes are up here, Anderson.”
The sparks between us are enough to light up an entire fireworks show. And I don’t mean the good, lovey-dovey, romantic-tension sparks. We’re talking aggravating, you-get-under-my-skin, I-want-to-wipe-that-grin-off-your-smug-face level of sparks.
Tyler’s pupils dilate as he looks down at me. He doesn’t say anything else. He just removes his hand and sits down like nothing happened.
“What are you doing?” I sputter.
“I’m getting ready to order dinner.” He extends a menu to me. “Are you going to eat or not?”
I grab it and take the seat across from him with a huff.
“You don’t have to sound so pained to eat a meal with me. As you said, a lot of women would love to be in your shoes.”
“You’re lucky that I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I’ve won the lottery tonight,” he deadpans.
Sighing, I skim the menu, looking for the most expensive options. I mean, if Tyler’s paying, I may as well indulge in something better than I’d normally buy for myself.
The waiter comes and takes our drink orders. He returns with my Diet Coke and more water for Tyler and takes our food orders.
“I’ll have the lobster ravioli.”
Tyler doesn’t even look at the menu when he makes his selection. “And I’ll do the salmon primavera.”
I glance at the menu, wrinkling my nose at the sheer number of vegetables listed in his dish and that the base is quinoa rather than pasta. Who comes to an Italian restaurant and doesn’t even order pasta? It’s more expensive than my dish, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to pay more for quinoa than lobster.
Tyler hands our menus to the waiter and taps his fingers on the table, looking around the room.
When I can’t stand the silence, I say, “I’m shocked that you don’t seem surprised.”
“By what?”
“You seem like the kind of guy that typically goes on dates with women who would order a side salad, eat one bite, and say they’re full. Not someone who orders a rich pasta dish.”
He shrugs. “Give me some credit. I know you well enough to know you’d never order a salad. I’ve seen your grocery recommendations, remember?” Tyler runs a hand through his hair, making me remember how it felt to run my hands through it—how soft and thick it was. “Besides, I’d rather date someone who eats balanced meals. You can’t just eat bunny food.”
I lean back in the chair, not at all worried about my posture and angles when I don’t give a lick what Tyler thinks of me. “Have you seen those candy salads on social media? That’s my kind of balanced diet. The perfect mix of sugar and sour deliciousness.”
He winces. “Thank goodness I don’t have to provide you with medical and dental insurance. I can’t imagine the sheer amount of cavities you must have.”
“I have perfect dental health, thank you very much.” I pick up the rose from the vase in the middle of the table, spinning it between my fingers. “There’s this invention called the toothbrush. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It might be a little above your medical pay grade, though.”
Tyler lets a slow breath out through his nose. He shakes his head. “You know what surprises me?” I raise my eyebrows, signaling for him to continue. “For someone who likes fruit snacks, you’ve got an expensive taste in pasta. I thought you’d enjoy the delicacy of SpaghettiOs over lobster ravioli.”
“Don’t you dare insult my SpaghettiOs.”
“I’m simply making an observation.” He runs a hand through his hair, but one rogue curl still remains on his forehead. “I’m also surprised that Aunt D ever thought we’d be a good match.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue with someone who can’t recognize the brilliance of foods like SpaghettiOs and fruit snacks. “We can at least agree on one thing: Darla is crazy for thinking we could be each other’s happily ever after.” He stares blankly at me. “Her words, not mine.”
He raises his glass of water toward me, and I clink my Diet Coke to it. “I’ll drink to that.”
We both sip our drinks and set them back on the table. Neither of us speaks, and once the silence becomes deafening, I can’t stand it anymore. “So, do you come here often?” I laugh nervously. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a first date. I chide myself. Not that this is a date. It’s definitely not a date. Just a dinner between a boss and his employee. Two colleagues eating together.
“At least twice a month.”
“Let me guess, you order the same thing every time?”
“I know what I like.” He says it in a way that leaves much room for interpretation while looking directly at me. I blush as I notice his eyes for the first time. They’re a beautiful shade of green, like the color of the buds at the beginning of spring bursting forth from the ground. Of course, he has the rarest eye color.
Brushing some hair behind my ear, I break eye contact.
“Do you usually eat out or at home? I know you can make a mean Caprese chicken, but I can’t imagine you had much time to cook when you worked four jobs,” Tyler says.
“Mostly at home. I have Taylor Swift to keep me company while I cook after a long day of work.” I take a sip of my Diet Coke. “I sometimes grab food out on the way home if I didn’t make it to the grocery store that week. Also, anytime I’m feeling sick or sad, I grab a Hot Brown sandwich. My mom always got me them growing up, and they became my ultimate comfort food.” I laugh. “I know it’s very Louisvillian of me.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a Hot Brown.”
I gasp. “How long have you lived here?”
“Four years.” He leans back in his seat, looking more at ease with the flow of conversation. “But three of those were during my residency, so all I did was eat, sleep, and breathe work. Then one of my colleagues retired as the head pediatrician at Little Louisville Pediatrics, and I got the job. I jumped from one kind of busy to another, so there wasn’t much time for exploring the area or trying new things. I tend to stick to what I already know I like since I don’t have time for much else.”
“Like ordering the same dish at an Italian restaurant every time you come and dropping off flowers to your great-aunt on Thursdays after work?”
“Exactly.” As quickly as the word is out of his mouth, Tyler shoots me a quizzical look. “Wait, how did you know I get Aunt D flowers every week?”
“I saw them in her room when I helped her with the duck fiasco, and she told me about you. You know she’s kind of your wingwoman, the way she talks you up.”
“Don’t encourage her.” He laughs. “If Darla heard you call her that, I’d never be able to escape her matchmaking attempts.”
“Then I should definitely tell her,” I tease.
His eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I wouldn’t stoop that low. Even for you.”
“I’m touched.”
The waiter returns with our food. I inhale the garlicky notes of the cream sauce, and my mouth waters. Tyler’s plate looks exactly how I imagined it: healthy.
I take a bite of ravioli and hold back a moan.
“Good, right?” Tyler smiles at me. I’m not sure when we started being nice to each other, but I’ll enjoy the civil conversation while it lasts.
“Delicious.” I wipe my mouth with a cloth napkin, making sure I don’t have any sauce on my lips. “So, where did you live before you moved here for your residency?” I dive back into my pasta while he talks.
“I grew up in a small town in Northern Alabama. I got my undergrad at The University of Alabama and went to medical school at The Ohio State University before landing at The University of Louisville for my residency. I originally planned on doing my residency at Johns Hopkins, but my sister lives here. When her ex-husband left them a few months before I was supposed to start my residency, I changed my plans to be near them so I could help as much as possible.”
Anger stirs up in my stomach at the thought of someone leaving Evie. “I always wondered what happened to Evie’s father, and now I’d love to meet up with him in a dark alley. Just to…talk, you know?”
Tyler laughs—actually laughs —at my words. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wished the same thing.”
“Maybe there’s one more thing we have in common.” I smirk. “They’re lucky to have you close by, though. Your family must mean a lot to you.”
“I’d do anything for them.”
“Are your parents still in Alabama?”
“No, they’re in Florence right now. Once my dad retired, they decided to travel. They wanted to move here to be with Tess and Evie when everything went down, but I offered to do it.” He moves around the vegetables on his plate absentmindedly with his fork. “They sacrificed so much for us growing up, and they shouldn’t have to give up their dream of seeing the world now that he’s finally retired and they have the time and means to do it. I’m sure they’ll settle down here once they’re done with their grand adventure.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were kind for doing that.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked grin. “But you still think I’m the worst, huh?”
“Maybe not the worst .” I do my best to keep a straight face. “What will your parents do if they settle down here?”
“My dad is a classic car fanatic, so I’m sure he’ll buy one to cruise around in. And Mom will thrive being the doting mother and grandmother.”
I shift in my seat, knowing my own mother will never be that. I shove another bite of ravioli in my mouth. “Do you like cars?”
Tyler nods. “I’d love to own a Corvette one day.” He eats another bite of salmon and then grins at me. “Back to me not being the worst , though. Have you noticed anything different lately? Particularly in the mornings.”
I purse my lips, trying to think of anything out of the ordinary. “I mean, I’ve been sleeping better, but what does that have to do with—” My mouth falls open. “You haven’t been blaring your workout music.”
“If I’d known it bothered you before,” he says, his tone genuine, “I would’ve used headphones from the start. I soundproofed that room, so I didn’t realize anyone could hear it. I can’t believe it took you two years to say something. No wonder you hate me.”
He says hate me in the present tense. For a while, I really did hate him, but knowing what I know now, it’s kind of impossible to hate the guy. And if he didn’t know I could hear his music and stopped immediately after I told him it bothered me a few weeks ago, then I’m not sure what else I can hold against him.
It’s like the picture I’d created in my mind over the past two years is completely shattered, and I’m not sure what my thoughts are about him.
I move my fork through the remaining sauce on my plate. “I don’t hate you.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” He sighs, and I really feel for the man sitting in front of me. The one who gave up residency at one of the most prestigious medical institutions to be near his sister. The one who treats his niece like she’s his whole world and gives up his routine and normalcy to be her guardian for three months—and pays me way more than he should to watch her while he’s working. The one who visits his matchmaker of a great-aunt every week with a new bouquet of flowers to liven up her room. I still think said great-aunt is nuts for thinking we’d be a good couple, but I understand Tyler more.
“We just had our wires crossed from the beginning, but I know you a little better now.”
He looks up at me. “So, you’re not mad you stayed for dinner?”
I shake my head.
He smiles. “Good. Next time, you can tell me about your family. Sorry, I feel like I talked the whole time.”
“Your sister is in Africa, your parents are in Florence, and you spend all your evenings listening to a five-year-old. I think that gives you a free pass to talk to someone about yourself.”
“Well, thanks.” He rubs the back of his neck with a shy smile.
The waiter comes and takes our plates. “Would y’all like to look at our dessert menu tonight?”
Tyler looks at me, and I shake my head. I’ve already extorted him enough tonight with the lobster ravioli. I’d feel bad making him spend any more money, especially after our conversation.
“Not tonight,” he says. “We’ll take the check, please.”
The waiter returns a few minutes later and places the bill in the middle of the table.
Tyler pulls out his wallet. “You’re not even going to offer to go Dutch?”
“Do you want Darla to find out you’re an uncivil man who doesn’t even pay for his date’s dinner?”
He snatches the bill up, placing his credit card inside, and I snort. “I was going to pay,” he mutters.
“I just like to see you sweat.”
Once Tyler gets his card back, we head outside. He places his hand on the small of my back, ushering me through the parking lot. Even through my sweater, I can feel his strong and steady touch, and I shiver.
“Are you cold?” He starts shrugging off his jacket.
“Oh, I’m fine. My car’s right there.” I point at it and keep moving. He walks me to my car, and I unlock the door, fumbling with my keys.
Tyler places his hands in his jeans pockets, rocking on his heels. “Thanks for sticking around tonight. I know this wasn’t the date you imagined.”
“At least you’re closer to my age. When Darla told me she wanted to set me up with her nephew, I was worried I’d walk in to find someone in their fifties.”
He laughs and takes a step forward like he’s considering hugging me. Panic floods my body, unsure whether I should lean in or push him away. I’m saved from having to do anything when he knocks his fist gently on my arm. Honestly, it feels even more awkward than if he’d hugged me.
“Drive safe.” Tyler clenches his jaw, and he looks around, seeming unsure. He shakes his head and jogs to his car before I can respond.
I get in my own car, cranking the heat. During the ride home, I sit in silence, not even turning on Taylor Swift, which is how I know something is really wrong. But I don’t want a random love song to come on and leave me questioning what just happened even more than I already am.
Tyler and I park in front of our houses simultaneously. I gather my purse and head up the sidewalk, locking my car door as I walk. Leaves crunch behind me, and I roll my eyes.
“What are you doing? I’m a grown woman. I think I can walk myself a few yards home,” I say as Tyler follows me toward my house rather than his. “If you think you’re going to get a goodnight kiss, you’re—”
“I’m not trying to kiss you.” He sounds more defensive than disgusted.
“You could only be so lucky.” I place my hands on my hips. “I’m a great kisser.”
“Kelsey.” He steps in front of me and gently grabs my upper arms. I’d normally go all Kung Fu Panda on him. However, the firm but kind way he’s looking at me has me holding back my ninja moves. “I’m not trying to walk you to your door to kiss or even hug you. I’m only trying to pick up Evie.”
I press my lips together, cutting off my next retort. Embarrassment courses through me. He wasn’t trying to walk his “date” to the door. He’s just picking up his niece that my besties were watching.
“Right, sorry.” I stay on the sidewalk while Tyler passes me, knocking on the front door.
Shayna opens the door, wearing a bright green face mask. “You have perfect timing. Evie just finished her facial.”
Tyler awkwardly motions to his face. “You’ve got something.”
She reaches up and touches the mask. “Oh, right. I should go wash this off.” Shayna kneels and hugs Evie. “Thanks for coming to girls' night. We’ll have to have another one soon.”
Evie beams. “I had so much fun.”
Shayna smiles and switches places with Alyssa as I walk up the steps to join Tyler. Winston pokes his head into the fray and whines excitedly when he sees me.
Evie looks between us, her eyes filled with joy. “Is Ms. Kelsey your lady friend?”
I turn on the heels of my white platform sneakers and glare at him. “You told her I’m your lady friend ?”
“It’s not like that.” He holds his hands up.
Alyssa pops her lips. “We’ll give y’all another minute to sort that out.” She quietly shuts the door, leaving us standing outside.
The porch light flicks on, illuminating the blush covering Tyler’s cheeks.
I cross my arms. “Explain.”
“Evie asked where I was going tonight. Her mom doesn’t date, and like I told you, her dad left them years ago. I didn’t want to explain what dating is to my five-year-old niece—that’s my sister’s job—so I panicked and told Evie I was meeting up with a lady friend.”
When he puts it that way, it sounds innocent enough.
“It’s just crossed wires, remember?” He nudges my arm as his voice falls back into a playful tone. “I’m not like that. If I was, I would’ve gone out with one of the ladies from the dance studio.”
“True.” I open the door, hoping Alyssa and Evie didn’t go far. “Sorry. Thanks for the dinner.” I rush past Alyssa and Evie, saying, “See you Monday.”
I round the corner into the living room and press my back against the wall, breathing heavily. I can still hear Tyler’s low rumble of laughter as I slide down the wall to sit on the hardwood floor. Winston trots over to me, licking my face until I pet him.
After a few minutes, the door creaks shut and Alyssa joins me on the floor.
“Shay! Mal! Get your gorgeous booties down here.” My other friends come downstairs in their pajamas and plop onto the couch. “Now that we’re all here, do you want to tell us what all that was about?”
“It’s nothing.”
Alyssa shakes her head. “You got home at the same time as Tyler when you were supposed to be on a blind date. He mentioned something about a lady friend. And then you thanked him for dinner. You can’t tell me that’s nothing. I could feel the tension sizzling between y’all.”
I take a second, scanning the room, waiting for someone to back me up. When nobody does, I sigh and mutter, “Tyler was my blind date.”
They collectively gasp.
Winston runs around excitedly like we’re playing a game with him. The only game I want to be playing is how long I can close my eyes in bed and pretend this night never happened.
“Can we talk about this in the morning?” I rub my temples. “I need to shower and sleep off the mortification.”
“Fine,” Alyssa concedes. “But tomorrow morning, you have to tell us every detail.”
“I’ll pick up our usual biscuit orders so we can stay in our pajamas,” Shayna offers.
“You’re an angel on earth.” I hug her. On Sundays, those of us who are available eat brunch together at a biscuit-themed restaurant in town. It’ll be nice to do something normal tomorrow because everything about tonight was far from it. “And maybe some bonuts?”
“It must be bad if you want the biscuit donuts.” Mallory lets out a low whistle.
We usually reserve ordering bonuts for breakups, breakdowns, or to celebrate Mallory’s breaks from school. But if I’m going to have to relive every shocking and confusing feeling from tonight again, I’m going to need all the sweet encouragement I can get.