10. Neesha
NEESHA
T hat evening, I’m elbow-deep in frosting when there’s a knock at my door.
Henry barks once, then wags his tail, which means he already knows who’s behind the door and it’s someone he likes and trusts.
I wipe my hands on a towel before opening the door.
Emmy stands on the other side with homemade guacamole, a jug of apple cider, and the kind of expression that suggests she’s about to meddle in my life—for my own good.
“Emergency best-friend meeting,” she announces, scratching Henry behind the ears before breezing past me into my apartment.
“What emergency?” I protest, gesturing to the chaos in my kitchen. “I’m kind of in the middle of baking. Historical society order, remember?”
Emmy surveys my tiny kitchen—mixing bowls everywhere, frosting splattered on the counter, me looking like I rolled around in powdered sugar, and just shrugs nonchalantly.
“This isn’t a mess—this is your natural habitat.
And I can’t stay anyway. Mimi is expecting me in thirty minutes.
” Then she sets the snacks on the only clean spot she can find.
“You can spare a few minutes for your mental health. Consider this an intervention.”
“An intervention for what?” I ask, already suspicious because Emmy only uses her I’m about to help whether or not you want it voice when she’s plotting something romantic.
“Well, I’ve been thinking…” she says, pouring me a glass of cider.
“Oh, no,” I interrupt. “Nothing good ever starts with ‘I’ve been thinking.’”
She hands me a cup and fixes me with her look that says she’s not leaving until she’s made her point.
“Mabel told me about her dare at the cafe the other day. You know, the one about flirting with the next guy who came in the store? And then you mentioned what Lucian suggested when you were stuck in the storage room together.”
“Not this again,” I groan, taking a sip.
“Yes, this again.” She hands me the bowl of guacamole and pulls out a bag of tortilla chips from her grocery sack.
Then she heads to the couch and settles on one side, a clear sign she’s not leaving.
“I’m worried about you, Neesha. If you don’t learn to get out of your apartment every once in a while, you’re going to rot in here. ”
“That’s not true,” I argue, sitting next to her. “I do have fun. I’ve made couch rotting a whole art form.”
She opens the bag of chips and hands me one. “Name the last time you did something just because it made you happy—not because it was practical or made money or was safe for your heart. Just for fun.”
I look around the room, searching for one example. Henry raises his head lazily from his dog bed, tail giving a single thump as if he senses I’m thinking about him. “I take walks with Henry.”
“That’s your only example of fun?”
“Well, yes,” I say, hesitating. “What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong,” she continues, “is that Henry is your entire social life. And that’s why I think you should take Lucian up on his offer.”
“I only told you about that so you’d fix the storage room door,” I remind her.
“Please. You practically had cartoon hearts in your eyes when you recounted the story.” She scoops a chip in guacamole. “But that’s not the point. The point is: when’s the last time a man made you forget how to form complete sentences?”
“I can form sentences just fine, thank you very much.”
“‘Hi-ho’?” She gives me a look. “Mabel told me your opening line to Lucian.”
I throw a couch pillow at her, which she dodges easily. “A practice date with the man next door is a terrible idea.”
“Why would you avoid dating Lucian? Because you might enjoy yourself?” She gives me a pointed look before taking a sip of her cider. “What are you really afraid of?”
I look down at my glass, swirling the dark liquid.
“What if it goes so well that I start to feel something for him?” I ask quietly.
“I’m still leaving. He’s just starting his life here.
And I don’t want a relationship yet. Nothing changes that.
Future Neesha will thank me for not getting her emotionally entangled in a relationship that can’t happen and will only end in heartbreak.
We’re like two ships passing in the night, so we might as well just wave and accept that it’s not meant to be. ”
“Or,” she says, holding up a finger. “You go out once and have fun. You find out what it’s like to date a good man who treats you well. Why would Future Neesha regret that?”
“When she has to leave, she might.” I take a long swallow of cider. “It’s a hard no. I’m still reeling from Mom’s death. After Nate, I promised myself I’d never postpone my future for a man.”
“Neesha, Lucian’s just offering you something comfortable. A date without pressure. Believe me, he’s one of the good ones.” She grabs another chip and points it at me. “And if he hurts you, I’ll have Dawson deal with him. ”
“Ha,” I laugh. “Dawson’s too nice to hurt anyone. It’s you I’m worried about.”
She gives me a sheepish smile. “Okay, you might be right. But I wouldn’t suggest this unless I knew he was safe for you.”
Safe. The word quiets the low buzz of anxiety I’ve been carrying.
I need someone who understands that grief and trauma don’t vanish overnight.
Someone who won’t see me as broken, but will still treat me with care while giving me room to be fully myself.
A man who respects my boundaries, understanding my need for space and independence, but who also loves me for my strength.
Because I know I’m not broken. What I’ve been through might have made me more defensive about how I protect my heart, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. And that’s what I want most—to be seen as whole, loved for all the pieces that make up who I am, the broken and the beautiful.
“What would we even do together?” I wonder aloud.
“Oh, I can think of a lot of things,” Emmy says with a smirk before dipping another chip in the guacamole. “Maple Fest is coming up. It’s the perfect low-pressure setting.”
“Sure—an entire town watching me make my dating comeback,” I point out.
“It’s not like they aren’t rooting for you. This would prove to everyone that you’re over Nate. Plus, didn’t that grant application ask about community involvement? Being seen at the town’s biggest event would definitely count.”
“I told Mabel I wasn’t applying, remember?”
“I know, but you could always change your mind.” She shrugs. “Besides, I heard from Mimi that Lucian’s never been to our festival before. He could probably use a local guide to show him around. And Mimi already told me she wants you to be his guide.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because even Mimi knows she gets out more than you do. And that’s pretty sad for someone who’s twenty-eight. ”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re too good at this.”
“I know,” she says a little smugly, taking another sip of her drink. “So, what do you say?”
I roll my glass between my palms slightly, considering what it might be like to go with Lucian to our local fall festival, which has always been one of my favorite autumn activities.
The whole town transforms into a harvest wonderland, with twinkling lights strung between the trees and the scent of cinnamon and apple cider filling the crisp air.
There are booths selling everything from pumpkin bread to maple syrup, and a hayride that winds through the countryside, showing off all the fall foliage in its blazing glory.
It’s the kind of event where couples hold hands while walking between booths, sharing caramel apples, and stealing kisses behind the pumpkin display when they think no one’s looking.
In other words, it’s basically designed for romance.
Which makes it either the perfect setting for a practice date, or the most dangerous place I could possibly go with a man I’m trying not to fall for.
Maybe I do need to remember what it’s like to have fun.
To just… live a little . I’ve been so focused on work, trying to get away from my grief and a relationship that nearly broke me, that I haven’t even tried to live.
I’ve just been existing. And existing isn’t enough anymore.
Mom would want so much more for me, and this is the gentle nudge I need.
“I’ll consider it on one condition,” I say finally.
She sets down her glass on my coffee table. “Name it.”
“If it’s weird or uncomfortable, I can bail. No questions asked.”
“I’ll bet Lucian could live with that,” she says. “And think of it this way—if it goes badly, you’ll have the best story to tell at girls’ night for the next decade.”
“And if it goes well?” I ask.
“Then you text me immediately with all the details, and we plan practice date number two.” She grins at me before getting up from the couch, taking her glass to the sink.
“Wait, I never agreed to more than one date,” I protest.
“I know,” she says. “But you know what they say—practice makes perfect.” Emmy heads toward the door, then pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
“Promise me you’ll text him tonight? The Maple Fest is once a year.
Don’t overthink it to death after I leave or you’ll have to wait another year for it to come around. ”
“Fine,” I sigh. “But remember our deal—I can bail anytime.”
She opens the door, then looks back one last time. “Give your neighbor a chance, Neesha. He might surprise you.” She gives me a look that says it’s already decided, before the door closes softly.
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
As soon as she’s gone, I walk to the window that faces Lucian’s house, excitement and worry tangling in my stomach like a ball of twine.
From the window, I can see him lifting weights in the living room where he set up a workout space in the corner.
His shirt is off, showing off the ridges of the muscles down his back.
I pull out my phone and stare at Lucian’s contact information for a full five seconds before typing out a message.
Neesha
Heard you might need a tour guide for your first Maple Festival? If you’re still interested in that practice date thing, I could show you around.
My finger hovers over the message for a second before I hit send. Even though I know I shouldn’t be watching, my eyes drift to the window. He must get a notification on his watch, because he immediately puts down his weights.
Lucian
Maple Fest is perfect. Pick you up at 4?
He rubs the back of his neck and his shoulder flexes. I almost feel guilty spying on him while he’s completely oblivious, but not guilty enough to look away.
Neesha
I’ll meet you there. I enjoy walking.
Despite secretly looking forward to this, I can’t let him pick me up like a real date. That makes it too official.
Lucian
Then I’ll walk WITH you. That’s what gentlemen do, even when stubborn neighbors try to argue.
A soft laugh escapes me. He’s really going to walk all that way just for me?
Neesha
Really not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of getting there myself.
Lucian
But then I’d miss out on your company. Plus, what if you run into trouble? Not that you need rescuing, but just in case
Neesha
Fine. But there’s one rule for this practice date.
Lucian
What’s that?
Neesha
Either of us can bail at any point. No questions asked.
Lucian
An escape clause?
Neesha
Exactly.
Lucian
Okay, but you won’t need it. This is going to be the best practice date you’ve ever had.
Neesha
It’ll be the ONLY practice date I’ve ever had.
Lucian
Then I better make it count. Is trying to make you smile allowed?
Neesha
I suppose that’s acceptable.
Lucian
Perfect. Prepare to have fun, Neesha Gilmore.
I press the phone against my chest and laugh—okay, maybe I do a tiny victory dance in my kitchen—a strange mixture of anxiety and excitement swirling in my stomach.
It’s not a date—just one evening of fun with a friend.
Honestly, it feels easier to hide in a crowd of people, where he can’t back me against the door and make my pulse jump.
My dog trots over and I give his head a ruffle. “No matter how handsome and helpful Lucian is, he’ll never be as cute as you.”
When I spin around to check if Lucian’s still there, time slows to a halt. He’s turned toward the window, face tilted directly toward me, wearing a knowing smirk that tells me he’s caught everything—my reaction, my smile, probably even my little happy dance over this practice date.
He lifts his hand in a slow wave of recognition.
I freeze as mortification floods my entire body. Then, like the mature adult I am, I give him the world’s most awkward wave before yanking the blind shut so hard it rattles.