Chapter 3
Three
PBS For Dating
Nora
The following evening at Porter’s crawls by so slow that I’ve become mildly invested in two guys at a high-top arguing about whether lager or ale is superior.
One of them keeps insisting, “You can really taste the citrus notes,” like he’s a certified brewmaster.
The neon beer sign above them buzzes louder, calling bullshit.
Unfortunately for me, Beck worked the afternoon shift, so I don’t even have him here to flirt with and kill time. Instead, I’m closing with Jake. And don’t get me wrong—Jake’s great, but he’s not a conversationalist, and that makes my night drag on slower than molasses.
The front door of Porter’s swings open, and Miles steps inside.
He stands there, shoulders squared, jaw tight.
The top button of his polo is fastened as if it’s trying to strangle him.
Our eyes meet from across the room, and his brows lift a fraction in surprise or hesitation before his mouth presses into a thin line.
The door swings open again, and a guy brushes past him followed by a woman soon after.
The small bottleneck nudges him forward.
He adjusts his glasses and ambles toward the bar.
“What can I get you?” I ask before he takes a seat.
“Um—actually, I’m not here for a drink.”
“Okay.” I lean a hip against a cooler. “Are you waiting for the rest of your bro club to arrive?”
“No.” He steadies himself. “I wanted to talk to you.”
My brow lifts. “About…?”
“I want to join your dating app.”
I freeze. “How do you know about OneDate?”
“Lach told me about it. He said it helps people with dates.”
My molars grind so hard I could pulverize a filling. My fingers curl at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Lach is a dead man. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.” I’m already shaking my head and walking away.
A stool scrapes across the floor behind me. A second later, Miles falls into step beside me as I move down the bar. “Please, Nora. I need your help.”
“No,” I fire back. “OneDate is not for finding the love of your life or hooking up or whatever nonsense Lach sold you.”
“That’s not the reason.”
The tone of his voice halts me in my tracks, and I pivot around.
His whiskey-brown eyes are soft—earnest in a way that catches me off guard.
His glasses have slipped down his nose, but he doesn’t notice.
Both palms rest flat on the bar like he’s bracing himself.
For one wildly unhelpful second, I want to reach across and push his glasses back into place.
I cross my arms instead. “My answer is still no. You’re going to fall in love with the first girl you go out with. ”
“It’s not like that.”
“Doubtful.”
“Please.” His voice dips. “I need help dating, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t want to keep waiting for something to happen.”
I’m sure he does need help, but I’m not the solution. “This isn’t PBS for dating,” I snap. “It’s for people who already know how to date.”
His shoulders slump. The defeat on his face hits me in the gut.
He searches my expression one last time, then gently pushes his glasses up and turns to the exit.
As I watch him leave, unease curls through me.
I know that look. It’s the same one I wear every time I tell myself not yet—not yet with the app, not yet with my life, not yet with anything that could actually fail.
I blow out a deep breath. I can’t imagine Miles on a OneDate date.
His dating experience has to be hovering somewhere near zero.
I pull out my phone and text Lach.
Nora
You’re dead to me.
Before shoving my phone back into my pocket, a message pops up on the screen.
Match Queue Temporarily Unavailable. Please Try Again.
I blow out a deep breath. It’s the same glitch I’ve been working on for days. The one tiny broken section of code that’s more stubborn than me. It’s just another thing standing between the app existing and actually working in the real world. I lock the screen and slide my phone away.
Two days later, a notification pops up in my social media inbox.
Miles
Please, Nora. Give me a shot. I really think your app could help me.
My head drops back against the car’s headrest with a dull thud. I was hoping he’d forget. Out of sight. Out of mind. Clearly, that strategy failed. I slide my phone into my bag and head inside Mom’s townhouse. She’s at the sink washing dishes when I walk in.
“Hey, Mom. I brought groceries.” The paper bag lands on the counter with a soft thump. Cold air spills from the fridge as I open it. Apples knock together in the crisper drawer as I close it while a tub of yogurt sweats against my palm.
She turns, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Tell me you didn’t buy the sad avocados again.”
“Sad avocados need love too.”
“Like you.” She presses a kiss to my temple then pulls back and studies my face. “What’s wrong? You look tense.”
I hesitate. “It’s just this guy. Miles.”
Her posture straightens instantly. “A guy?”
“Nothing like that.” I move a carton of eggs to the back of the shelf, pretending that’s suddenly urgent.
Her shoulders deflate. She wants nothing more than for me to find the love of my life. But I’ve come to terms Atomic Fireball candies will always be the one and only great love in my life. She has not.
“He’s someone I know from the bar. He wants to join OneDate.” I lean against the counter next to her.
“And you don’t want him to?”
“I don’t think he’s the right fit.” I exhale. “He’s a nice guy. He really is. But he’s… Miles. Awkward. I doubt he’s been on many dates, and I can’t risk him tanking the app’s reputation before it even launches.”
“But you don’t know that for sure.”
“It’s an intuition,” I argue. “He wants help dating. He thinks the app can fix that.”
“Maybe it can.”
“I’m not here to babysit him.”
“Who says you have to babysit?”
I glare at her. “You’re not helping.”
“I just think everyone deserves a fair chance.”
I groan. “Your wise words of wisdom. Maybe you should go out with him. You could teach him a thing or two.”
“Damn right I could.” She winks. “But I don’t think he’s ready for me.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “On that note, I’m going to get going. I have Eve’s baby shower this afternoon, and I still need to get a present.”
“Nothing like waiting until the last minute.”
“That’s how I roll.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Also, think about Miles.”
I roll my eyes, already halfway out the door. “Yeah. Yeah.”
The drive over to Rylee’s gives me too much time to think—about Miles, about Mom’s pointed little smile, about the gift bag on the passenger seat that crinkles every time I hit a bump.
A tiny yellow onesie peeks out from the top, cartoon ducks smiling as if they have no idea how chaotic my life is.
My chest tightens. Today is supposed to be fun.
No emotional spirals allowed. By the time I pull up to Rylee’s place, I plaster on my neutral, I’m-fine expression—even though I’m absolutely not.
Inside, the living room is a sea of pastel and tissue paper. Rylee, Dessa, Eve, and I are surrounded by mountains of gifts. Eve won’t need to buy baby gear for the next five years. Strollers—plural. Pack-and-plays. Toys. Enough tiny clothes to outfit a very stylish infant army.
Eve is Jake’s sister, which already makes her family. With Lach acting as honorary baby daddy, she’s officially one of us.
After the baby shower winds down and most of the guests have left, my phone buzzes again, and it’s another message from Miles. “Ugh, I’m going to kill Lach.” Three heads snap toward me. “Sorry,” I add, glancing at Eve. “I hope you haven’t gotten too attached because he’s a dead man.”
“Technically, he’s not the baby daddy,” Eve counters, unwrapping a box of baby socks. “But he gives me massages and food, so I’d like to keep him around for a little longer. What did he do?”
I drop my phone onto the couch cushion. “He told Miles about OneDate, and now he wants to join to get dating practice. The app is not a tool for education.”
“What’s the harm in him joining?” Eve shrugs. “He’s a really nice guy.”
“Sure, he’s a nice guy. But he also has the ‘I want a girlfriend’ flashing billboard above his head. The purpose of OneDate isn’t to find a partner but to help ease the pressure from others about not having a partner. Miles will be five seconds away from asking out anyone he goes on a date with.”
Rylee crosses one leg over the other, watching me carefully. “I think you’re being a little harsh.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m trying to run a legitimate business. Not a daycare service.”
Rylee’s brow lifts. “If you don’t want him on the app, you could show him the ropes on dating yourself.”
“Ugh, I’d rather let him join the app.”
Rylee’s smile turns victorious. “There you go. You have your answer.”
I glare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We are on your side,” Eve chimes in, folding a piece of tissue paper. “But Miles is a nice guy. He deserves a fair chance, just like everyone else.”
“Fine.” I throw my hands up. “But if he asks out every girl he goes on a date with, you all owe me a new handbag.” I point at each of them. They laugh but also agree.
That evening, I walk into Porter’s and spot Lach behind the bar. I march straight up to him and smack his arm. “You’re a jerk.”
“Ouch.” He rubs his bicep. “What was that for?”
“You told Miles he could join OneDate. Why would you do that?”
“I told him to ask you.”
“Same difference. Now he’s hounding me. Why’d you even mention it?”
He leans against the bar. “He needed help. Rylee wasn’t here. He started telling me about the saddest date I’ve ever heard, and I thought maybe… your app could help.”
“I don’t know if anything can help Miles.”
“What’s the harm in letting him try?” He shrugs.
“He’s looking for a wife. That’s not what the app is for.”