Still mulling over my options, I heard the ping of my phone from the pocket of my apron. Welcoming the distraction, I pulled it out and saw I had an email from a recruiter about the marketing role I’d applied for. With trembling fingers, I swiped my phone open and read it, my eyes widening in surprise when I saw the words, “strong contender for the role” and “come in for an interview” on my screen.
They want to interview me for the job?
Without pausing to think, I fired off an email, using the usual platitudes, such as “thank you for the opportunity,” “fit for the role,” and “eager to discuss.” What did I have to lose?
“Paige? Oh, there you are. Someone’s here to see you,” Bailey said, her head poking around the doorframe.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep, steadying breath. Marcus. Time to face the music, Paige.
I pasted on a smile I hoped said “I’m fine whether you want to see me again or not” and stepped out of the kitchen. I was met by a vision of Marcus, standing on the other side of the counter. He was handing some cash over to Sophie, and his eyes crinkled into a smile when they met mine.
Oh, be still my beating heart.
He mouthed “Hi,” and I smiled back at him, hoping—praying—he was here for a good reason, the best reason, and not the alternative.
His change handed over by a gooey-eyed Sophie, he gestured toward a free table in the corner. I nodded at him, pressing my lips together.
“Bailey? Is it okay if I take a quick break? Five minutes?” I couldn’t help but look over at Marcus, sitting at a nearby table, watching me.
I noticed Bailey follow my gaze, and I looked down at the floor, embarrassed.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I flashed her a brilliant smile. Of course, she would let me take five minutes with Marcus. I smoothed my hair behind my ears, walked around the counter, and over to his table.
Marcus smiled up at me. “Hey, you.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him, as nervous as a duck in shooting season. “Hey.”
“You look great today.” I could almost feel it as his eyes swept over my body, making me tingle from head to toe.
“Thanks, you do too.” He could have been wearing a lab coat and goggles for all I cared; he was here, and he wanted to see me.
“I wanted to say I had a great time yesterday. And I’m sorry I had to cut it short.”
“Okay. Me too.” By “short,” did he really mean “not kiss you on the lips”? “Except for the choking part. I’m really sorry about that.”
He shook his head, slipping his hand onto mine beneath the table. “Don’t worry about it. It could have happened to anyone. Go Azkim, right?”
“It was Azmera,” I corrected him, and immediately regretted it. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“I just wanted to say that.”
“Say what, exactly?”
“That I had a good time. You’re a pretty cool chick.”
I giggled like a schoolgirl. “You, too. Guy, I mean, not chick.”
“So,” he began, only to be interrupted by Sophie, delivering Marcus’s coffee.
“Here you go, Marcus. I put an extra chocolate fish on the saucer for you,” she simpered.
I shot her a look. Sophie was flirting with Marcus? And she knew his name?
“Thanks, Sophie. You look after me well.”
And he knew hers?
Before the green-eyed monster could rear its ugly head in earnest, he returned his attention to me. “Look, I know you’re working and don’t have much time, but I wondered if you’d like to go out again. Say, Saturday night?” He spoke in a soft, intimate tone that left no uncertainty in my mind this was a second date.
I beamed at him, my heart squeezing. Saturday night was “date night.” Or was that Friday? I didn’t care, because in that moment, everything was right with the world. “That would be wonderful. Yes.”
“Great.” He grinned at me, and I could have melted into a giant blob on the floor.
A noisy group of corporate-dressed women entered the café, steeling my attention away from Marcus. I knew I couldn’t hide my disappointment at having to cut our chat short, but I also had a job to do.
I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table. “Until Saturday,” I breathed.
I floated around in my happy bubble for the rest of my shift, putting smiles on the customers’ faces with my jokes and witty repartee, treating them like they were my close and personal friends, not simply random people who had come to the café for their coupons for free coffee. I got a few odd looks, I would admit, but I didn’t care. I was getting a second chance. I was going on my second date with Marcus on Saturday. Life was good. No, scratch that, life was great.
“You’re in a good mood,” Bailey commented as I returned to the kitchen, singing One Direction’s “Little Things” quietly to myself, a pile of dirty dishes in my hands.
“Oh, you know. Why not?” I replied, adding the dishes to the growing pile next to the sink.
She smiled at me, nodding. “Why not indeed.”
I returned to my song and began to stack the plates in the large dishwasher. I’m in love with you, and all these little things. Okay, so it was too early for any “I love yous” and I didn’t know the “little things” about Marcus yet, but I was excited to find them out.
“Hey, before I forget, Marissa is popping in at close today. We wanted to talk to you about your Last First Date.”
A surge of excitement rose in my belly. I turned to face her, grinning from ear to ear. “Sounds good to me.”
“Stick around after your shift ends,” Bailey said over her shoulder as she walked back out to the counter.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, all cleaned up after my shift and barely able to contain my anticipation, I unlocked the front doors to let Marissa in.
“Hi, Paige! Are you excited?” she asked as she bustled past me with her laptop, purse, and a couple of paper shopping bags from expensive boutiques in her hands.
“How could I not be?” I bounced from foot to foot, trying to help push my excitement out into the stratosphere. Really, I was more wound up than a six-year-old on Christmas Eve.
Marissa pulled out a manila folder from her laptop bag and slipped her things onto a chair. “I know, right? This is a big moment. Huge.”
I nodded at her, trying to bite down on my smile. Failed. It was all about to become official!
“Hi there, Marissa,” Bailey said, walking into the café from the kitchen. “Are you ready for this?”
“I sure am. Got the file and everything.” She waived a blue manila folder in the air.
“Awesome. Let’s sit down and get this thing on the road then, shall we?” Bailey said.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I was ready and waiting, on a chair, fidgeting like an ADHD kid off my meds, before you could say “Last First Date.”
My friends followed suit. Marissa placed the folder in front of her on the table, resting her hands on it. I swear I could almost see the name “Marcus Hahn” burning a hole through the cardboard.
Marissa kicked things off. “Paige. The decision we are sharing with you today is going to change the course of your life.”
“Yup.” I pressed my lips together, my toes doing a Mexican wave in my shoes.
Not helping me feel calm, here.
Bailey picked up the conversation gauntlet. “We didn’t take this decision lightly, you know. We both spent considerable time finding out everything we could about this guy. Of course, I already knew him, so we had a good head start.”
“Yup.” My insides were beginning to feel like I was standing on one of those vibration machines people used to lose weight.
“We spoke directly with him, with some of his friends and work colleagues,” Bailey said. “Marissa even tracked down one of his cousins and spoke to her about him!”
; “Yup.” I nodded furiously at them both, willing them to say his name.
Marissa chortled. “She must have thought I was some kind of weirdo. You see, I pretended I was doing a telephone survey for a large corporation, only when I started asking about family health issues and blood types, she went a little quiet.”
Bailey laughed. “Isn’t that funny?”
“Yup.” I nodded at them again.
Are they doing this on purpose?
“And I had a few eyebrows raised from one or two of his colleagues,” Bailey said, shaking her head at the memory, “especially when I asked them about his ex-girlfriends. I think they thought I was some sort of stalker or something.”
Get on with it!
“Great. So . . . ?” I lead, placing my palms flat on the table.
But instead of responding to me, Marissa laughed. “Remember that one guy you told me about? What did he say to you exactly?”
Bailey smiled. “He was concerned I was some type of stalker and told me to ‘back off, lady’ and threatened to call the police! It was like something out of a cop show.”
They both laughed.
This is torture! I’d had just about enough.
“All right, you two. I know you enjoyed doing this, and it sounds like you had a few adventures along the way, but can we please just get on with it? I’m dying here!”
Just say it! Say it’s Marcus!
“Sorry, sorry,” Bailey said, shaking her head.
“Yeah, sorry,” Marissa echoed. “We got a bit carried away.” She picked the folder up from the table and flipped it open.
I could see sheets of paper poking out. I cocked my head, trying to decipher what was written. I could discern the words “held the position of vice president,” but nothing further. Marcus was a vice president? Impressive.
Marissa snapped the cover shut, making me jump back in my seat in surprise. “No peeking.”
“Well, then. Let me say first up, we both think you and this guy would be great together,” Bailey said, nodding at the folder, as though Marcus was hiding inside and would jump out, shouting “Surprise!” at any moment.
“He might not be the most obvious choice for you,” Marissa added.
I nodded along. On what planet was Channing-Tatum-look-alike Marcus Hahn, former vice president of some company, not an obvious choice for me? He had the word “perfection” written all over him! And he was taking me on a second date on Saturday night.
“But then, you yourself said you’re lousy at picking the right guy. So, we figured you’d be open to it,” Bailey said. Her eyes darted between Marissa and me. “So, would you like to know who it is?”
Was she freaking kidding? “Um, yeah.”
“Well,” Bailey said, reaching for the folder. Marissa held onto it so that they were both holding it between themselves.
“Hang on. Shouldn’t we build it up a bit more, you know, make it more of an announcement, like you see on American Idol or something?” Marissa said.
“We could. What did you have in mind?” Bailey asked.
Why were they doing this when we all knew it was Marcus and I’d already been on my sanctioned first date with him? Without waiting to hear Marissa’s thoughts on the subject, I reached out, grabbed the folder, and tore it out of both of their grasps. With surprisingly agile fingers, considering how pent up I’d been, I flipped the cover open and pulled the wad of paper out.
“Hey!” Marissa protested, attempting to snatch the paper from me.
As I read the name on the piece of paper, I knitted my eyebrows together. The room fell silent around me, all I could hear was my own heart, beating loudly in my ears. I looked from the paper up at my friends. They were both watching me closely, sitting still enough to be wax figures in a museum.
“But . . . J. E. Bentley? I don’t understand,” I said. I was suddenly numb, confused, like I had been transplanted into some alternate universe where nothing made sense.
“What don’t you understand, exactly, Paige?” Bailey asked.
I looked back down at the sheet in my hand. “Where’s Marcus’s name?”
“Who’s Marcus?” Marissa scoffed.
My eyes almost popped out of my head. “What do you mean, ‘who’s Marcus?’ Marcus Hahn, my Last First Date.” I looked from a perplexed Marissa to Bailey. “You told him he had the go-ahead to ask me on a date.” A strange feeling spread across my chest. “You even told me to have fun, remember?”
Bailey’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You went on a date?”
I blinked at her. “Yes! Our Last First Date. You knew!”
Marissa put her hands up in the “surrender” stance. “Back up the bus, here, Paige. You’re telling us you went on a date with some guy called Marcus Something-or-other without us agreeing to it?”
I looked at her dumbly, nodding. My belly began to twist into that elaborate rug again.
“When?”
“Last night. It was wonderful, and we got on so well until I started choking and Azmera had to save my life and Marcus didn’t kiss me, but then it didn’t matter because he came here today and we’re going out on Saturday.”
“I’m confused. You’re going out with someone called Azmera on Saturday?” Marissa asked, her face scrunched up in complete confusion. She looked at Bailey. “What is going on here?”
Bailey put her hand on Marissa’s arm while looking at me. “I think we’ve somehow got our wires crossed. Did you go on a date with Marcus Hahn last night?”
I let out an exasperated puff of air. Had they not been listening to me? “Yes. Like I said. You gave him your blessing.”
Bailey paused for a moment, opening her mouth to speak, then closed it again without saying a word. Eventually, she said, “What gave you that idea?”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “You did. Don’t you remember? You told Marcus he could ask me out, he said you had told him it was okay to do it. You sanctioned it.”
I watched as Bailey slowly shook her head from side to side. “No, I didn’t.”
I could feel the hairs stand up on the nape of my neck. “You did. You authorized it. He said so,” I repeated with less force, my voice trailing into a whisper. I looked up into Bailey’s eyes. She smiled at me, her face soft.
“Ah.” Mortification stung. I looked down at my hands, the words on the paper blurring into gray lines before my eyes.
Marcus wasn’t my Last First Date?
“Okay, so I have no idea who this Marcus guy is, but I can tell you he’s not your Last First Date,” Marissa said.
I swallowed. “Who is?”
“J. E. Bentley.” Marissa beamed at me as though this was the best news ever. “You read it yourself.”
I let out a heavy sigh, resigned. “Okay.”
“Paige, I know you were expecting it to be Marcus, and I’m not sure why you think I said you could go on a date with him, but can you please give this guy a chance?”
I shrugged, my dreams of a future as Marcus’s loving wife evaporating into the ether. I let out a sigh. I had agreed to let Marissa and Bailey chose my Last First Date, even though it was only because I was convinced it was Marcus. “Sure.”
“Good. Because it’s Josh.” Bailey’s face broke out into a broad grin.
I furrowed my brow, my mind too filled with disappointment to connect any dots. “Josh,” I repeated, as though on automatic pilot.
“Mm-hmm.” Bailey could barely contain her elation.
In a fog, I glanced at Marissa. She too was smiling at me, as though I should be completely ecstatic they’d matched me with some guy called Josh . . .
Click clank clunk. The cogs in my brain turned over. They meant Josh Josh?
“Do you mean Josh, the coffee delivery guy Josh?”
“Yes!” they both exclaimed in unison.
I looked at them, agog. “But he . . . he looks like Harry Potter!”
Please don’t judge me. I was in shock, and it was the first thing that sprang to
mind.
Bailey let out a light laugh. “I guess he does, a bit. I’d never thought of him like that before. It must be those glasses of his, don’t you think?”
Marissa nodded her agreement. “Well, it’s not his cape and wand.” She laughed at her own joke as I continued to gawp at my friends, not quite believing what was happening here.
Marissa and Bailey thought Josh was my perfect match?
“I can tell you one thing, though,” Marissa continued, “he doesn’t look like Harry Potter with his shirt off.”
“How do you know what he looks like with his shirt off?” My eyes were huge, staring at Marissa.
“Yeah, how do you know that?” Bailey echoed.
Marissa’s cheeks colored a pretty shade of pink. “I bumped into him at the beach, that’s all. He looked good in his, ah . . . trunks. Nice muscles.”
I blinked at her. An image of Josh dressed up as Harry Potter, with bulging muscles painted that weird orange color favored by body builders, sprung before my eyes. I shook my head to dislodge it.
No. Too, too weird.
“Did you, now,” Bailey said, leaning back in her chair, examining Marissa’s face. “You didn’t mention that part of the research.”
Marissa shifted in her seat. “It wasn’t part of the research, per se. I just happened to see him there, that’s all.”
In a daze, I gazed at Bailey. She had a “do you really think I came down in the last rain shower” look on her face. “Is that so?” she said.
Marissa fidgeted some more, looking as guilty as any one woman could. “You mentioned he goes to that beach up the coast to swim sometimes, so I went there to see if I could track him down.”
“Which you did,” Bailey said.
“Yes. And he was very friendly and err, looked good. I thought it was important to know, for Paige’s sake. And he asked after you, in fact, Paige.”
Hearing my name pulled me out of my reverie. “He what?”
“He asked after you. I saw it as a very good sign.”
I gave her a weak smile. Big deal. Josh wanted to know how I was. As I sat in my chair, the fog began to lift. Marcus wasn’t my Last First Date. It was Josh. Josh who delivered coffee beans, Josh who had become my new running partner, Josh who I had no feelings for whatsoever.
Two Last First Dates Page 13
