Chapter 6 Ghosted
Six
Ghosted
Nora
Miles declared his first OneDate outing a success—especially since his date left a glowing review.
He decided he was ready to switch roles and request a date of his own.
It felt a little fast, but his optimism was hard to argue with.
If anything, his enthusiasm was proof OneDate was helping him.
These low-stakes dates are meant to ease the pressure, to let him build confidence one outing at a time.
Somehow, against all odds, that’s exactly what’s happening.
He’s learning that dating doesn’t have to be terrifying or humiliating.
At this point, I don’t have a real reason to tell him no.
I had to pause our one-on-one coaching after Mom’s relapse last week. It wasn’t serious, but it wiped her out, and I wanted to be around in case she needed anything—even if “anything” meant sitting on her couch and doing crosswords. For the most part, Miles seemed to be doing fine without me.
I’m currently at Porter’s getting ready to leave at the end of my shift when Eve’s and Lach’s voices get my attention.
Then I hear Asher’s name. I slam the locker door, and it clanks against the metal latch.
From the back room, I race to the bar. “I want baby snuggles!” My shoes squeak on the floor as I stop next to Jake.
I pluck Asher from his grasp, but he gave him up pretty willingly.
With Asher in my arms, I bend down and rub my nose against his teeny, tiny button one.
“You know,” Lach says, “you could have one of your own, then you’d get twenty-four-hour baby snuggles.”
“Why do that when I have yours?” I coo at Asher. “Auntie Nora is here, and I’ll spoil you with all the love and toys imaginable.”
“How’s OneDate going? Get Jake to join yet?” Lach playfully elbows Jake.
“Nope.” Jake spins around and storms off, ending his participation in further conversation.
“Since Jake’s out, what about Miles? Has he been behaving himself?” Lach takes a seat on a bar stool.
“It’s been good. He’s been good.” Asher scrunches his face and fusses in my arms as a distinctly awful odor drifts up around us.
“Oh! He’s dropping bombs.” Eve swoops in and lifts him from my arms. “I’m going to take care of the damage.” She heads down the hallway with her son in her arms, and the diaper bag swinging at her side.
My phone alerts me with a message. I pull it from my back pocket.
It’s not the message on my screen that draws my attention but instead it’s an alert from OneDate.
When I open the app, it’s on the screen I was last on.
Miles has an event today, and his date just canceled.
An hour before it starts. Dammit. There’s no way someone else could arrange a new date with him on such short notice.
I swallow. The lump of dryness in my throat not going away.
My mind snaps backward—I’m seventeen, sitting on my front porch in a thrift-store dress, watching the sky darken while my prom date never showed.
My sophomore year of college, alone in a café with melting ice in my latte while the barista gave me a pity smile and stopped asking if I was waiting for someone.
And the one that hits the hardest: my dad promising he’d be home.
For dinner. For Mom’s neurology appointment.
For anything that required him to show up.
Until one day he… didn’t. No goodbye. Only the quiet admission he didn’t want to be part of our family anymore.
Being ghosted isn’t just awkward, it fucking sucks. It teaches you that people don’t think you’re worth the courtesy of a goodbye. That you’re optional. Disposable. Miles doesn’t deserve that lesson. He’s been trying so hard. Asking questions. Practicing conversation.
Images of Miles sitting by himself, checking the time, waiting for his date to arrive, flash through my mind.
He’s made so much progress. I can’t let this be what knocks him back down.
I shouldn’t do this, but I don’t know what else to do.
I know what it feels like to be let down, and I refuse to let that be what Miles takes away from today.
There’s a good chance I’m going to hate myself later for this, but I shove my phone in my pocket. “I have to go,” I say to Lach and race out the door before he can say anything.
In the parking lot, I glance down at my jeans and pink work T-shirt, which boasts a hoppy aroma.
Thankfully, past me had the foresight to keep a clean work shirt in the back seat.
I quickly glance around to make sure no one’s watching before executing the world’s fastest wardrobe change.
Once the fresh shirt is in place, I race across town.
The park is already alive when I pull in.
Kids shrieking with laughter while pink and purple balloons sway in the breeze.
A few eager leaves start to turn with hints of gold and red scattering among the branches, but the others still cling to summer like they aren’t ready to admit the season is changing.
A giant inflatable bounce house castle towers next to the playground.
I drift through the crowd as if I belong and I’m not scouting a kidnapping.
Under the pavilion, near a picnic table, I spot Miles crouched down, helping a little boy tie his shoes.
I stroll up to him. “Hi, Miles. Sorry I’m late.”
His head snaps up, brows knitting together. “Nora? What are you doing here?”
Leaning closer, I drop my voice. “I’m your date.”
“What?”
“Your date.”
He finishes the knot and stands as the kid darts off, sprinting past us. “What do you mean?”
“Your date canceled at the last minute.” The explanation tumbles out faster than I can filter it. “I was already in the app and saw it. I wasn’t—like—monitoring your profile or anything.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t even check my messages.”
“You didn’t miss anything. She didn’t send one.” I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how this looks. “Anyway… I didn’t want you to be dateless.”
He just stares at me, stunned. “You came to be my date?”
“Yeah. I—I kind of felt sorry for you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed. Or leave a bad review.”
“I wouldn’t do that. That’s not your fault.”
Several pairs of eyes flick in our direction. Act normal or look suspicious forever. I rise onto my tiptoes and loop my arms around his neck. He goes completely still. “Wrap your arms around my waist,” I murmur.
He does, his hold is light and careful, almost tentative. And somehow… comforting.
“Am I doing this right?” His voice is quiet, close to my ear.
“Yes. But people might start wondering why we’re still hugging.”
“Oh.” His hands drop instantly.
A woman approaches with a bright, welcoming smile. “Hi! You must be Caroline. I’m Jackie—Miles’s mom.” She pulls me into a hug as if we’ve known each other for years.
My gaze darts to Miles, eyes wide, seeking backup, but all he does is shrug.
“Uh—this is Nora.”
Jackie releases me and turns slowly to Miles, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I thought you said her name was Caroline.”
“It’s my middle name,” I blurt. “Depending on my mood, I… interchange them. But you can call me Nora. That’s the one I use most.”
Miles shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I must’ve… gotten confused.”
Jackie waves it off with ease. “Well, I’m so glad you’re here, Nora. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say.
She rests a hand on Miles’s arm. “Why don’t you introduce Nora to everyone?” Before he can answer, she’s already moving on to the next group of partygoers.
“Yeah. Okay.” Miles’s hand settles at the small of my back. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He meets my gaze for half a second, then quickly looks away.
“Good move,” I whisper.
His throat bobs. He lowers his voice, like he’s aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “This—uh… this girl told me about it.”
I bite back a smile. “She’s a smart one. You should listen to her more often.”
His lips twitch, and he sneaks another glance in my direction. “She is.”
It’s not a grand declaration. It’s barely even a sentence, but the way he says it makes something inside me flip. I fix my attention on a nearby balloon for a second, just so I don’t stare at him.
We make the rounds—his dad, his two older sisters, their husbands, a swarm of kids, and finally the birthday girl herself, which makes the balloons and bounce house click into place.
His hand leaves my back only long enough for polite hugs before returning like it belongs there.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve hugged this many people in such a short span of time.
My hug circle usually begins and ends with my mom, and even that’s more sporadic than the last fifteen minutes.
When we finally escape the crowd, I tug him gently to the side. “Um… Caroline?”
He winces. “Yeah. When I told my family I was bringing a date, they wanted details.”
“Okay. What details am I working with?”
“We met at a coffee shop after mutual friends set us up.” He counts them off on his fingers. “Your parents live in Vermont. You’re a dental hygienist.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Well, I do have nice teeth.”
“You really do.”
“Thank you.” I gesture down at my Porter’s T-shirt. “And how exactly do I explain… this?”
His gaze drops to my chest. If it were anyone else, I’d assume he was checking me out. With Miles, it’s pure analysis.
“You moonlight as a bartender?”
“Dental hygienist by day, bartender by night.” A soft chuckle slips out. “That’s quite the superpower.”
A laugh bursts out of Miles. One that crinkles the corners of his eyes. Mine follows a second later.
We shuffle into a line to fill our plates buffet-style, conversation buzzing all around us.
Voices overlap while kids dart between the adults, and I have no idea which thread to latch on to.
This is the complete opposite of everything I had growing up.
I always had small, quaint birthday parties, and certainly nothing involving all the kids from the entire block.