"Son, I have amazing news."
"You've realized this is no longer your office," Troy grunted as he dropped his pencil in time to watch his father toss his coat over a nearby chair.
Three years ago his father retired and since then it was as if he hadn't retired at all. He still came in whenever he wanted. Still gave out orders to the staff and most annoyingly still came and went from his old office whenever he wanted.
"I'm getting married," Jack declared as he made his way to the cabinet where his father stored his whiskey.
Troy stared at him, open-mouthed. Not again. Arms crossed, he tapped his foot impatiently on the carpet floor under his desk. "Again."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." His father set out two glasses and began to pour. "It's a way of life. Some people have their hobbies, some have their work and I have romance."
Troy was about to vomit. He wasn't sure if it was because of his lingering hangover or because of the latest news. Probably a combination of everything. "You've had it five times Dad."
His father flinched at his sour tone. "I'll let that slide due to the current events surrounding your last marriage."
God damn it.
"Although, I am happy to see that one go," Jack added with a chuckle. "Tomorrow is the first-year anniversary of your divorce. Mood swings are expected."
Troy bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at the calendar on his desk.
Sharpay always kept a wall calendar. God only knows why. He kept telling her to use the stupid app on her phone, and she wouldn't need a wall calendar with a Sharpie tied up next to it because this was the fucking future and she was being insane. He hated the grimy string that held the thing in place, just like he hated the little valance curtain that hung above the kitchen window.
But it was still there.
Sharpay's mother was the kind of person who kept fluffy seat covers on toilets. That should have been his first clue. Nothing made of fabric belonged in the bathroom or the kitchen— the two dirtiest rooms in the house. Unless it was a floor mat or an oven mitt, he wanted it out of his sight.
Sharpay was gone.
Occasionally, it hit him fresh. Like it had just happened. There was no escaping these days, although they came less and less frequently with time. He just had to get through them.
He didn't even care about her anymore. The Sharpay he loved as a concept was long gone, and he knew that. He was finished mourning her. It led nowhere and accomplished nothing. Why bother? Why waste his energy? It was like loving a ghost. Except more pointless, because his concept of Sharpay couldn't even make pottery with him while the Righteous Brothers played in the background. She was beyond ethereal. She was completely nonexistent, in every possible iteration of every universe.
Troy sat up straighter, "So what's this one's name?"
Jack grinned. "Marissa."
Out of self-preservation Troy took his eyes off the calendar and took the offered drink his father handed him. Marissa was the mother of his seven-year-old stepbrother Christian. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say she was crazy the first time around?"
"We've worked out our differences. Besides, it would be good for Christian to see his parents together and happily married."
"Why? I never did."
Jack huffed, "That's different your mother was crazy."
"Funny, she says the same about you." Troy shifted in his chair and adjusted his collar.
"You know I slept in this office after…let's see, your mother… Renee, the ballet dancer- "
"My nanny."
Jack grinned, "She was the nanny?"
"Yeah."
Jack let out a laugh as he took a seat in one of the leather chairs. "I forgot that. How ironic. Then there was the art major."
Troy shifted his glass around before lifting it to his lips. "Also, my nanny."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"That's amazingly ironic. And then there was Bethany."
"Dad, not that I don't appreciate the memory lane of exes, but is there a point approaching?"
"Right," Jack lifted his glass and took a long drink. When he was done he smiled and set the glass on the side table nearby. "I want you to be my best man."
Troy took a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair and took in his father's wistful smile. "Sure, why not."
"Hot diggity dog!" Jack leaned back in his chair with a loud clap. "This is going to be terrific."
"Right." Troy placed the half-empty glass on his desk.
His eyes drifted back to the calendar.
"You know you should get back out there. So what your first marriage was a wreck? That why we call them starter wives. In fact, Marissa has a younger sister you should meet."
Troy winced. "No."
"You just have to meet someone new, that's all. That's the easy part."
"Oh right, a snap to find the one single person in this world who fills your heart with joy."
It wasn't that easy to meet anyone. There were women who treated him like he was rich, and women who didn't. Not that it mattered. He wasn't an idiot, he understood it was inescapable. People would always consider his money when evaluating his personality. If it was down to a decision between him and another man, and he was the millionaire, the other man certainly wasn't going to win. To some extent, he'd never really known what any woman thought of him.
So, he married a woman he hardly knew. When she cheated on him with her friend from work, part of him was shocked, but the other part felt the crushing inevitability of it. Had been feeling it for years. They met when they were teenagers.
There had been no chance for them.
There would have been if she'd tried harder.
But he was insufferable as well. He knew that. As much as he knew he wasn't supposed to blame himself, he couldn't really do anything else. Sharpay wasn't a degenerate when she married him. He turned her into someone lonely and desperate. That was his gift.
He needed coffee. He needed a change of scenery. He needed to get these blueprints done before the end of the day. No way he could work here with commotion going on.
"Sorry for cutting your visit short, but I have a meeting with a supplier in town. Call me later and we'll go over the details."
"Oh no problem at all, I was going to hang around and catch up with some of my buddies." Jack let out a laugh. "I'm going to need Groomsmen after all."
"Great."
Loading up his laptop and all the binders of research he needed to put the blueprints together, he retrieved his wallet and headed out where his driver was already waiting.
He just needed to get out of here. Go somewhere no one knew who he was. Get a cup coffee and work.
Working kept the memories away. Working helped him forget. He just needed to work.
Gabriella parked her faithful Toyota beside the town green and resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms on the legs of her capris. Stupid to be nervous, she thought. It was just coffee. And a blind date with a guy she'd been matched up with on Perfect Chemistry. A guy with no profile picture.
He said he was camera shy—which could mean…anything.
Actually shy. Physically deformed. Homely. Axe murderer. Taylor thought she shouldn't even talk to a guy not will to put his picture up, but he seemed nice in their admittedly non-personal conversations. Respectful, which was something in astoundingly short supply in online dating. The things some guys thought they could get away with—insults, asking directly for booty calls, texting naked pictures of themselves—it had almost made her give up on online dating entirely.
But Tony had done none of those things. He had been friendly and made no assumptions. They'd talked about movies and TV and SEC football, steering clear of pretty much all personal and identifying owing to that whole could-be-an-ax-murderer thing. She could get over the fact that he was a lifelong Bulldog fan. Probably. He was into architecture. Was working at entry level and gaining more experience. He hoped to be designing skyscrapers one day.
At least he had vision.
Post-college dating was hard enough. So, when he said he was coming to town for the afternoon and suggested they meet for coffee, she said yes. Public place. Daytime. She would get a better feel for him in person than from online anyway.
It wasn't a big deal.
So she changed her outfit. Twice. And gnawed off her lipstick and had to reapply. Gabriella just knew if she stayed home and thought about it anymore, she would probably end up canceling on him. Or worse, standing him up because he had already left Starkville and would not get her message. So, she arrived early and decided to walk to The Daily Grind so there would be time to get her nerves under control.
Sunlight filtered through the enormous oak trees that peppered the green grass. Summer had baked the ground in places, and the green hadn't quite recovered. In another month or two, the leaves would turn brown and fall—Mississippi rarely saw much in the way of autumn color—but for now, the green was as she liked it best. Bright and breezy.
Gabriella strode purposefully to the coffee shop. The date might be a disaster, but at least if the whole thing tanked, she would have an entertaining story to tell at the bakery tomorrow.
"Well hey there Sugarplum!"
The tension in Gabriella's shoulders immediately bled out at Kelsi's cheery greeting. Kelsi had been running The Daily Grind with her mom since she got back from college. Since then The Daily Grind had been doing fantastic. Kelsi had taken all the businesses courses she could so that she could come back home and really give the place the love it deserved.
"You're dressed up awful cute for an afternoon read-a-thon," she remarked, already turning to put together her current favorite Black Irish mocha.
"What?" Gabriella glanced down at her novel sticking out of her purse. "Oh…no. Actually, I'm here to meet someone." She pulled out the book and the Gerbera daisy, clutching both to her chest.
Kelsi arched both perfectly manicured brows. "Oh!" She drew the exclamation out to three syllables. "You're pulling a You've Got Mail. That's just adorable. Anyone, I know?"
"Nobody I know. We got matched up on Perfect Chemistry. He's an architect."
Kelsi brightened. "He's already here! Upstairs." She dropped her voice and leaned across the counter, offering her Black Irish. "A real hottie, too."
"Thank goodness," Gabriella sighed. "He didn't have a picture on his profile. Taylor was positive he had a third ear or a weird mole or something. Don't even get me started on what my mother thinks."
"No strange growths or creep vibes. Scout's honor," Kelsi swore. "He's been working on a report of some kind for a while now. Could probably do with a refill of his coffee. You want to take one up?"
"Sure." It would be a nice icebreaker.
Kelsi made it up and handed over the second cup. "Good luck, cupcake. If he turns out to be a stinker, just text me an SOS and I'll create a diversion to get you loose."
"You're an angel."
"Just remember that when I come in your chocolate cheesecake!"
Gabriella smiled and began walking up to the loft. Where there were extra tables and couches set up for a more private vibe.
He was the only person there. Hunched over a laptop, with a stack of binders and a big blueprint on the table. She could make out the strong edge of his jaw and the serious set to his mouth. Maybe he had come early planning to get some work out of the way before their date? Gabriella considered turning around and going back downstairs until the appointed time, just to give him a chance to finish what he was working on. Then he looked up and she almost bobbled the coffee.
Kelsi hadn't exaggerated. This guy was a certifiable hottie with all that dark brown hair mussed by a frustrated or nervous hand and those clear blue eyes that seemed to pierce her from across the room. His brows winged up in question.
Aware she was staring, Gabriella mustered a smile and crossed over, setting the cup of coffee in the few inches of free space beside the empty cup already there. "Kelsi said you could do with a refill." She slid into the booth across from him and laid her book and flower next to her own coffee. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
As the brunette slid into the seat across the table. Troy realized three things. One, she wasn't a waitress getting her flirt on. Two, it was really hard to be annoyed at being interrupted by a beautiful girl. Three, she completely thought he was somebody else.
"I'm so glad I'm not the only one who believes in showing up early." Freed of coffees, her hands darted briefly, like hummingbirds unsure where to land, before settling in her lap.
Troy recognized nerves when he saw them. He opened his mouth to tell her she had made a mistake, then his eyes landed on the book she'd set between them. The latest in The City of Soul Chronicles.
"You're a Hermon Smith fan?" he asked.
Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, giving her a faintly feline look as she said, "Yes, have you read this one?"
Troy quickly held up a hand. "No. Don't say a word. I'm three books behind in the series and have been rapidly avoiding spoilers. I didn't discover them until recently, unfortunately, work hasn't left a lot of free time for reading."
"No, I imagine not. I confess I've been a reading machine since I graduated two years ago, I haven't been able to get enough of all things commercial fiction. I'm sure my English professor would have a heart attack that I'm reading something other than Faulkner."
"And yet, you were an English major?" he asked.
"Honestly, it seemed like a good idea at the time. The only things I really love are baking and reading. They don't tell you when you sign up to major in English that what they do isn't reading. It's analyzing texts—often by a bunch of dead white guys that haven't been relevant for at least a century— to within an inch of their lives." She shuddered theatrically and sipped her coffee. "I'm pretty sure they make up at least half of all the hidden meanings. I really don't give a damn what the author supposedly meant by the curtains being blue. Sometimes, the curtains are just blue."
Troy grinned. "Or the light at the end of the pier in Gatsby was just a green light."
"Yes!" She lifted her coffee in a gesture of agreement so enthusiastically, he expected it to slosh.
"Why didn't you switch majors?"
"Eh, by the time I was over it I was already done with most of the courses. Instead of switching I just added a minor in business. The rest of the puzzle just seemed to sort itself out."
"What was the rest of the puzzle?"
She smiled as she leaned back in the booth, she'd relaxed since she first sat down. "Opening the bakery, perfecting my recipes and just doing something I love."
"You're a baker."
She leaned forward placing her elbows on the table. "Between you and me, I make the best damn cupcakes in Mississippi."
Troy smiled. "Your modesty is refreshing."
"The one thing I do miss about college was having time for a daily nap."
"Naps are one of the greatest benefits of college," Troy agreed. "I'm pretty sure half the violence in the world would disappear if everybody had a daily nap."
"I guess you don't have much time for that anymore with your new job. You know because of you I now have a book all about Mississippi architecture on my coffee table."
"No not so much room for napping when you're working hard." So whoever she was supposed to meet was into the architecture business. He really ought to say something. But she looked so sweet as she absently played with the stem of the daisy, her attention focused on him. He could at least keep her company while she waited for her real date to show up. "Do you only bake cupcakes?"
She shrugged. "I bake all sorts of things. I currently working on my first wedding cake." She was quiet for a moment. "It's for my ex."
"How on earth did that happen?"
She tipped her head in consideration and the sunlight from the window hit her hair, bringing out all the rich, warm undertones and making Troy itch to touch it to see it if it really was as silky as it looked. "His mother and my mother are friends. Like…lifelong friends. I swear they had everything about our lives mapped out. They just missed the part where George had a thing for blonds."
"Blonds are overrated."
Her smile widened, "Tell me about it."
"My ex-wife was a blond," Troy offered. "She ended up having a thing for her friend from work."
She giggled. "Well aren't we a pair of real winners."
Troy laughed out loud, unable to stop smiling himself. There was no question about it. Her expression was one of comfort and satisfaction with her place in this tiny world. It was infectious.
"Well, now there's all this pressure to make the damn thing flawlessly. And to be honest I need the business. Right about now an awesome wedding cake would really put me on the map."
"Business isn't booming as much as you like?"
She shook her head. "Business is fine. It's my building that's falling apart." She sipped her coffee. "I have a hole in my kitchen wall, light fixtures that don't work and currently my apartment doesn't have running water."
Troy raised a brow. "Yet you're open for business?"
"I meet the codes and standards," she responded. "Enough about my shortcoming, what about you?"
Troy sat up a little straighter. "What about me?"
She looked down at the blueprints and binders. "Last I heard you were a gopher for your boss, getting coffee and making copies. Suddenly you're looking at blueprints and building codes?"
Ah ha, so his mysterious competition—and when had he started thinking of this girl's real date as competition? — was just starting out. "The construction of a building is just as, if not more important, than the design of one."
"Smooth. So why Mississippi?"
"Why not Mississippi? My father owned a business a here, he did well." Troy shrugged his shoulders. "My mother loved small towns. She said they had more culture and class than any big city."
"You're mother sounds like a genius."
"So, you don't think about leaving?"
She shrugged. "Not really. I always imagined I'd live here all my life. I never pictured anything else. You?"
"I don't know. Depends on how things unfold, I guess. I do travel a lot. Plus, there are certain variables one would have to consider. Like relationships or family. I imagine I'd stay anywhere for the right someone worth staying for."
She smiled into her coffee and glanced back up at him through sooty lashes. "I guess I'm just waiting for someone as well."
What on earth possessed her to say that?
Gabriella looked down into her mug again, just as Tony smiled. Oh, yeah. That was why. He had a great smile—and an inviting curve of lips that made you feel like you were sharing some kind of juicy secret.
He made such a better impression in person than he did online.
"Why didn't you have a picture up on your Perfect Chemistry profile?" she couldn't resist asking.
The oddest expression crossed his features. "It wouldn't have been me."
Huh. He hadn't struck her as much of a philosopher in their previous conversations. "Well, I guess we do tend to place too much importance on physical appearance."
"Why are you on those sites? You can't tell me you have trouble finding dates."
"This place isn't quite the dating scene, in case you haven't noticed. Of the guys here in my relative age bracket, I already dated half of them in high school. The other half are either married, dated friends of mine long enough that it would be weird, or they just don't ring my bell."
Tony nodded, "Interesting, so online dating rings your…bell?"
"It casts a slightly wider net. And it's nice to theoretically have a system to match you up with some kind of criteria that suggest compatibility."
"You think an algorithm or whatever can actually do that?"
"Don't you?" she asked. He was on the same dating site, after all.
"I don't think it's a substitute for real, in-person conversation. It might be able to match you with somebody based on—I don't know—similar values or movie tastes or political views. And, sure, maybe you end up hitting it off. But I don't think there's any true substitute for a chance meeting where you feel that indefinable spark with a stranger—and you know they won't stay a stranger for long."
The moment stretched between them, pulling taut with awareness and unspoken things. Gabriella felt her skin prickle and thought if she reached over to touch his hand right now, she'd feel a snap of electricity.
The thumps of footsteps on the stairs broke the spell. Gabriella glanced over to see an unfamiliar guy step into the room. Tall and exceptionally thin, he had a mug in one hand what appeared to be a sketchpad in the other. She gave him a polite smile as he paused to survey the room, then moved to take a seat in a booth by the other window.
"Well, there's definitely something to be said for serendipity," Gabriella admitted. "Whether it's facilitated by outside sources or not."
Tony lifted his mug in a toast. "To serendipity."
Gabriella clinked her mug to his.
The conversation shifted back to books. They both had diverse tastes, she liked urban fantasy and romance, he liked sci-fi and more traditional fantasy, but there was sufficient crossover that they had plenty to discuss.
The new guy checked his watch and fidgeted, tapping a pencil lightly against his sketchpad. The sound wasn't quite loud enough to truly be annoying. He looked nervous. Waiting for someone, she guessed. Knowing very well how that felt, Gabriella silently wished him as much luck on his date as she was having on hers.
"Hey," said Tony, "I saw an ice cream parlor a bit down the street. How do you feel about banana splits?"
"I think they're one of the singular joys in life," Gabriella said. "Will there be extra chocolate?"
"Naturally."
"Then why don't we relocate," he said.
"I support this plan," she said. The ice cream was always a good idea.
Tony shut the laptop he'd shoved aside some time ago during their conversation into his bag and began gathering his things. As he started to stuff his things away a letterhead caught her attention on his memo pad. A compulsive reader, she angled her head to get a better view. Bolton Constructions.
"Bolton Constructions? I thought you were working for Ageless Structures."
Tony stopped stuffing his bag and gave her a sheepish look. "Ah, about that."
"Excuse me?" the newcomer stood by their table. "But are you Gabriella?"
Gabriella had a very bad feeling as she cautiously answered, "Yes."
"I'm Tony," he said, with a look that clearly said party foul to her companion. "Your actual date."
Gabriella's face cycled through several different emotions—distress, embarrassment, maybe even disappointment—before she settled and pinned him with a horrified glare. "You're not Tony?"
Troy shrugged. "Guilty."
"Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded.
"You didn't ask," he said. Wrong answer.
She shot to her feet, hands fumbling for her book and coffee as she looked to her real date. "I'm so sorry for the confusion. I got here early and we simply don't get that many unfamiliar faces in town. Kelsi said—well it doesn't matter. We made assumptions. I thought he was you."
"No harm, no foul," Tony said, though the glance he shot back at Troy suggested otherwise. "Shall we?" He gestured towards where he'd been sitting.
"Thanks for the coffee and conversation," Troy said as they walked to the other side of the room. His eyes shifted to the daisy she left behind.
Well hell, he'd certainly blown that.
As soon as the other guy had come up the stairs, Troy had suspected it was probably her real date. He had the crazy idea that if he could just get her out of there…
Then what? She wouldn't be mad at him when he told her the truth? That she felt that spark?
Cursing himself as an idiot, he finished packing up his things. No use staying here. He had work to do. He could have been a complete jerk and sent her packing when she sat down, but no, he'd been polite. Conversational.
And interested, damn it.
Troy's gaze strayed back to Gabriella. He couldn't hear their quiet conversation over the lounge music that played over the speakers, but she certainly wasn't as animated with Tony as she had been when she was talking to him. She was nervous again. Beneath the table, her hands twisted in her lap. Her smile seemed a little strained around the edges.
Was that his fault? Had he made her feel even more awkward over the blind date than she already did? Troy felt like a prick of guilt at that. He hadn't intended to make things more difficult for her.
Great, now he was spying on her blind date. What was he doing? What was done, was done and couldn't be taken back. He had work to do.
Determined to finish what he'd come here for, Troy looked at the construction plans in front of him. He took some notes of material and expenses.
He lasted all of ten minutes. The damn flower sat there mocking him. It's bright color taunting him, indirectly dragging his attention back to her.
She wasn't even laughing. What kind of date couldn't at least make her chuckle?
He caught her glancing his way, he couldn't help but smile. One corner of her mouth twitched before she quickly shifted her attention back to Tony. The guy seemed to be recounting some incredibly detailed…something…with visual aids. He was drawing something out on a napkin.
Troy rolled his eyes and looked back at the flower sitting there left behind by its owner. He let out a sigh and decided to pack up. This was getting him nowhere.
"-and then he walks up and says he's my date. I've been sitting there for forty-five minutes talking to this guy and he never said a word to correct my assumption. It was mortifying." Gabriella reached for her apron and begun tying it around her waist.
The aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon raisin bread and vanilla scented sugar glaze smacked her in the face. It was their top-selling item, and already there was a line of customers were waiting for to get their share.
Taylor let out a laugh as she slid a batch of freshly baked doughnuts into the counter display, before heading back to the register. "What did your actual date say?"
Gabriella paused in the doorway between the storefront and kitchen. "He was really cool about the whole thing. Really polite. Which is more than I can say for Mr. Fake Date. He kept staring at me as if I couldn't be any more nervous about what an idiot I was." Gabriella let out a grunt as she pushed through the door and entered the kitchen area.
Taylor continued filling the last few orders while Gabriella brought out the rest of the trays restocking the nearly-empty glass display counter with parchment-lined metal trays of apple fritters, custard filled doughnuts and maple glazed cinnamon twists.
"There are worse things than a man who can't keep his eyes off you," Taylor argued once the last customer exited the bakery.
"Not when you're on a date with somebody else," Gabriella insisted. "I'm sure Tony thought I was the rudest date ever. I was so distracted especially when Mr. Fake Date had the nerve to pack up and leave in some kind of temper tantrum. I mean, where does he get off?"
"Did the actual date get better after he left?"
Gabriella grimaced. "No, we had nothing in common. He didn't even try to kiss me. I doubt I'll ever hear from him again." Gabriella grabbed another tray from the countertop. "I spent the rest of my evening with Ben." Ben was her neighbor's cat who visited on occasion.
"Why don't you just get a cat of your own?"
"I can't. It just wouldn't work out." Gabriella looked down at the tray of goods in her hands.
Taylor rolled her eyes. "So, it sounds like you got along really well with Mr. Fake Date."
"I don't even know who he is-" A noise sounded from the front room. Taylor stepped over to the swinging door and peeked out the window.
"Shit. Incoming."
Gabriella put the tray of goods down. "Great. Just what I need right now. Don't worry, I'll go head her off at the pass."
"I'll just stay back here out of the way."
"Yeah, right. Coward," Gabriella called out as she shoved open the door and stepped into the front room.
A slender woman with flawless ivory complexion, mauve-painted lips, and wavy brown locks-at least a shade lighter than Gabriella's-rounded the display counter.
"Hi, Mom. What's happening?"
Her mother swept a glance over her. "Definitely not that outfit. And you didn't even fix your hair today. How are you going to attract a good man looking like that?"
Here we go. Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Daddy says I'm perfect just the way I am."
"Your father's a liar. Besides, mothers are always right." She stood in front of the swinging door just as Gabriella turned towards her and propped a hip against the counter.
"Don't slouch, honey. Good posture makes you look thinner."
Gabriella sighed but didn't say anything.
Just then, Taylor's head appeared in the window of the swinging door behind Gabriella's mother. She put a gun-shaped finger to her own head and pulled the trigger, pretending to blow her brains out.
Gabriella cleared her throat to keep from laughing. "So why did you stop by Mom?"
The bell over the door chimed and Gabriella looked over just in time to see a delivery man enter the bakery with daisies. A lot of daisies.
"I wanted to check on the cake for the wedding tomorrow. I ran into Mrs. Andrews at the supermarket and…frankly, she seemed worried. I think she's afraid you might sabotage George's reception by doing something to ruin the cake."
"Well, then maybe Mrs. Andrews should've thought about that before ordering her son's cake from his ex-girlfriend's bakery."
"Delivery for Gabriella?" The man said placing the flowers on the countertop.
"Flowers?" Her mother's brows flew up in surprise. "Who sent the flowers?"
Gabriella grabbed the clipboard from the delivery man and signed on the line. "I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?" Her mother let out a huff as she plucked the card from the holder and eased it out from its envelope. "Honestly Gabriella, sometimes you're so difficult."
Ignoring her mother, she smiled back at the delivery man. "Thank you for the flowers," Gabriella said as she handed the clipboard back to him and waving as he left.
"Let me make it up to you. Tosca. Tonight at 7 pm." Her mother flipped the card over. "No name. You must know who they're from?"
Gabriella frowned.
"Oh my god," Taylor flew through the swinging door. "There from him aren't they!"
Gabriella's mouth dropped open. She never told Tony where she worked and he hadn't seen the flower she had brought. She forgot it at Mr. Fake Date's table. A flutter of excitement trembled in her chest.
"Who's him?"
"No one." Gabriella took the card from her mother. "No one at all."
"Fine, what do I know, I'm only your mother."
Gabriella watched as her mother began walking around the counter towards the door.
"It was nice seeing you mother," Gabriella offered.
Her mother paused momentarily before pushing to door open slightly. "Just, please don't do anything to embarrass me. I have to sit on the City Council with that dreadful woman, and it would make for some very awkward town hall meetings."
And just as she appeared, she was gone. Out onto the street.
"He's asking you out," Taylor said. "Properly. With Style, I might add. Flowers that must have cost a pretty penny to deliver. A dinner invite to the nicest restaurant in town. Tell me you're going?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, come on," Taylor said. "This is, like, the ultimate form of flattery. He liked you."
Gabriella didn't deny she was flattered. He'd remembered details, made an effort because he actually wanted to see her again. Ad there had been a moment. That serendipitous spark before the real Tony had shown up.
Yet…she hadn't gotten past the annoyance and embarrassment over what had happened. How long would he have gone on lying to her if they hadn't been interrupted?
"How can I trust a guy who had multiple opportunities to come clean about not being my date and chose not to say anything?"
"He owns his unruly behavior on the card and apologized with the flowers," insisted Taylor. "That's got to earn some brownie points towards paying off the deficit."
"Are brownie points even a thing when you're not in a relationship?"
"You're avoiding the issue," Taylor exasperated. "Worst case scenario, you get a nice dinner and a chance to ream him out for his behavior on Saturday. Best case scenario, you find out who it is you really made a connection with. Isn't it worth going to find out which one?"
