Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
AUDREY
I don’t know why I’m trying so hard.
I spent an hour and a half showering, shaving, exfoliating, and moisturizing.
For a man I don’t intend to be charmed by?
I must have had a slight freak out because I briefly considered getting a Brazilian wax—which I’ve never done before in my life.
It seemed like poor timing to start now.
That’s the only reason I didn’t make an appointment at Pretty Kitty down the street.
Maybe I’m just nervous about going out to dinner with a man I’m attracted to.
Six months ago, I was happily engaged. I was picking wedding colors and thinking about cake flavors.
In one day, it all came crashing down and, at some level, I’m preparing myself for this to be the same.
It was easier to distract myself with all kinds of beauty treatments than to sit and wonder what it will be like.
How rusty will I be? How will he behave?
Will he flirt? Will we get dessert? Will we—
SEE?! This is what I’m talking about. I have time to spare, and I need to find something to tidy if it’s going to be like this all evening.
I hear Nicole's keys in the door and mumble “Thank God” under my breath. She’s here to save me from myself.
I meet her at the door to help her carry everything.
She’s weighed down with all her beauty shit and is here under the guise of helping me do my hair and makeup, but really, she’s here to keep me sane.
“Where are we doing this?”
I look around, trying to think which room has the best lighting. “Maybe my bathroom with the big mirror?”
“Great, I’ll go put everything down in there.”
“I’ll get the girls.” Guinea pigs love having a chance to stretch their legs.
I try to keep them out of their cage as much as possible when I’m home, and it’s easy to let them out in the main bathroom while I shower.
They love the humidity since they’re from a tropical country and often reward me with their happiest tea kettle whistles.
Nicole brings a kitchen chair for me to sit on and I shut the door behind me and put the girls on the floor. They scatter to explore.
I plop into the chair and Nicole asks, “What are we going for today?”
“Can you do that nice beach wave?” Nicole’s hair is the thickest I’ve ever seen. It never ends. Her ponytails are the size of a golf ball when it’s all tied up. Mine is more like a marble. So I’m hoping beach waves will make it look fuller.
“And makeup?”
“Normal but more, you know what I mean?” I want to look like myself. Like I didn’t try too hard, but also better than the near-death version he sees at Big.
“Gotcha.”
We fall into the comfortable silence that only comes with two decades of friendship.
While she works, I let the feel of her fingers in my hair distract and relax me.
She’s methodical in her movements, just like she approaches life.
A perfectionist at heart, I know she won’t stop until she’s happy.
Her standard has always been higher than mine.
I’m surprised she’s done when she tells me to flip so she can spray the curls one more time.
She runs her fingers through them, strong from many years of playing piano as a young girl.
I guess it’s been a while now, but when we were kids, she was good.
I distinctly remember a Taylor Swift piano music song book.
She finally speaks when she moves in front of me to start on my makeup. “How do you feel?”
“More confident now that you’re here to turn me from pumpkin to princess.”
She laughs her wind chime laugh. “You’ve never been a pumpkin in your life.”
“Not even in high school when I had a full set of braces that they took off, realized my teeth were still messed up, and then had to be put back on?” I counter.
“Even then. It was well worth it for your beautiful smile!”
“That is one of my favorite parts about me.”
She nods. “We’ll do a gloss to frame your smile with kissable lips.”
“There will be no kissing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“None.”
“Sureee.” She draws out the end. “I’m not trying to push you into the arms of the first man who pays you any attention. But Audrey, you need to get back out there.”
“I am. Literally tonight.”
“And if things go well?”
I hesitate.
Nicole speaks into the silence. “I just want you to have an open mind. I don’t think it needs to be said, but I’m going to say it.
” She puts down the wet makeup sponge and takes my hands in hers.
“Noah is not Hunter.” I nod even though my nose is stinging.
Obviously, Noah is not Hunter, but aren’t all men kind of the same on the deepest level?
Doesn’t society allow them to be that way?
My emotions are bubbling under the surface.
Thankfully, Nicole doesn’t push me anymore.
She just picks up the pink sponge and goes back to work.
An hour later, I have mismatched shoes on. “The heels are hot, but the sandals are much more comfortable.”
Nicole eyes my outfit. “You can get away with a more casual shoe if you want to wear a dress, but if you want to wear these jeans and the silk top, you should wear the heels to dress them up a little.” Who am I to argue with that?
Noah is plenty tall. Not that I’m short.
I think I’m exactly average for a woman.
Some final touches with earrings, rings, and perfume are all I need.
Nicole hands me the tiny clutch she picked out and wraps me in a hug. “If nothing else, have fun and eat some good food.”
“I love you.”
“Love you. And call me later. I want to hear everything.” She turns to collect her already packed things and leaves.
I check the time on my phone: 6:20. I’m trying to be relaxed, but my jiggling knee is giving me away. I’m strung up like a high wire.
This is just an apology dinner. No expectations. No strings.
Noah might be a delicious mountain of a man, but that doesn’t mean anything to me.
I do what I always do to keep myself focused and on track: write a list.
I open a new note on my phone which I title “Reasons I Don’t Need a Man:”
1. They lie.
2. I’m too busy.
3. They all want to be dads. (And will lie about it. See reason one.)
I check the time again and see if I have a text. The time is inching toward 6:30 at a snail's pace. A drunk snail's pace. He’s not even going in a straight line, poor snail.
Finally, finally, it’s time to leave. I grab my small purse and keys and head out the door. My Uber waits for me in the cracked concrete driveway, and I’m met with the delicious smell of fried chicken being blown my way from the restaurant across the street.
I arrive five minutes early, which is right on time, and allow the valet to open my door.
“Audrey,” a voice calls from behind me and I turn toward it.
My jaw drops when I take Noah in.
He looks so different in casual clothes.
Until now I’ve only ever seen him in gym clothes—those devastating man tights he wears.
I thought those would be the death of me, but Noah in a hunter green Henley just about wipes my brain of all intelligent thought.
If I die right now, it’s because he looks so good I forgot to breathe.
He takes long strides toward me, eating up the concrete between us.
I momentarily panic. Are we on hugging terms?
What if he kisses the back of my hand? Is that gross or romantic?
It would definitely give me a sense of what this night is.
If he shakes my hand I may die from embarrassment on the spot.
I’m more than a little relieved when he pulls me into a hug that’s surprisingly gentle for his size.
He holds his hand out for mine. “Are you hungry?”
A smirk splits my face. “Starving, actually.”
The list. The list. The list.
Don’t be so easily charmed, Audrey.
“This is my favorite restaurant.” He guides me through the dark glass front doors hand in hand.
Inside is full of murmuring undertones. Even at seven-thirty, they have the lights turned down, enhancing the beautiful candlelight coming from each table. The smells of fresh-baked bread and searing steak mingling. “It’s beautiful.”
Noah speaks to the ma?tre d’. “Fox, for two at seven-thirty.”
They look down at their tablet before saying, “Ah yes. Mr. Noah, your regular table is ready.” They walk around the hostess stand and we follow.
His regular table? How many women has he brought here?
I slip into the chair Noah pulls out for me.
The table has two small votive candles, and a single white rose in a demure vase.
The white tablecloth is perfectly ironed, and a small basket of warm bread is already waiting for us.
I pull my napkin into my lap and pick up the menu.
It’s got a bit of everything on it. A chicken breast, of course, but steak and various seafood offerings as well.
Movement catches my eye, and I glance up as our waiter approaches.
“Good evening, Mr. Noah. So glad to have you tonight.”
Noah smiles and greets him. “Matt, so good to see you! Been a couple weeks.” Matt is average height with sandy hair and blue eyes.
I’ve never seen anyone greet a server like this.
He really must come here all the time. Or maybe he’s this friendly with everyone?
That would explain his insistence in taking me out to dinner.
“It has. We’ve updated the wine list since you were here last. I’ll bring Jacque over to discuss that with you shortly.
” With a nod, he moves to the next table.
I turn toward Noah, my mind whirring with the new light I’m seeing him in tonight.
I know so little about him, but I plan on changing that right now.
To satisfy my curiosity, of course. No other reason.
“So, you come here often?” I ask.
Could I embarrass myself any worse? Be any more cliché?