Three Last First Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

I locked my jaw. “I’ve made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake,” I muttered, clasping my hands together. I looked at Bailey. “I need to fix it. I have to go. Do you mind?”

  “Well, I was looking forward to a fun night out with you, but—” She chuckled. “You go, do what you need to do. And I’m kinda hoping I know what it is.” She flashed me her brilliant smile, and I couldn’t have suppressed my grin if my life had depended on it.

  “Thanks, Bailey. You’re the best.” I took another sip of my drink for Dutch courage and stood up. I put my hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “You’ve helped me see something I was totally blind to.”

  She shrugged, grinning. “All in a day’s work.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “No worries. I’ve always got Buff over there, if I need some company.” She nodded at the bar, and Buff smiled and raised his chin at her. She returned her attention to me. “You go get him.”

  I nodded, swallowing. I knew what my heart had been trying to tell me, but it had got all mixed up with my unresolved feelings for Eddie.

  Nash was my Last First Date. And now I needed to try my best to get him back.

  Chapter 21

  I stood in front of the door, working hard at getting up my nerve. I needed to see him; I had things to say.

  I raised my hand to knock, pausing in midair. What would he say? How would he react? Would I lose my nerve?

  Before I could change my mind, I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door.

  I waited. And waited. I could hear footsteps inside, and then the door swung open.

  “Marissa!”

  “Hey, Eddie,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Someone let me into your building. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Of course!” He pulled me in for a kiss. “This is a wonderful surprise. I thought you were going to have a quiet night at home.”

  I stepped across the threshold and into his apartment. “Yes, well, I was, and then I needed to see you.”

  “Oh, that’s so great.” He beamed at me and I had to look away.

  “Can we talk?” I asked, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.

  “Sure, babe, sure,” he cooed, closing the door to his apartment behind me and leading me by my hand through the cavernous room to his large, white sofa.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, his face etched in concern.

  I took a deep breath and nodded at him. “I . . . I need to tell you something.”

  “You’ve got me worried.”

  I bit my lip. This last week with Eddie had shown me so much about him and about me—and I didn’t think he would like any of it very much. But I needed to say it, I needed for him to hear it—and I needed to hear it myself.

  “I’ve changed,” I began, the sadness beginning to dissipate a fraction inside. “I’m not the girl I was back when we were dating.”

  He nodded, reaching for my face. “I know. You’re even more amazing now.”

  I placed my hand on his wrist and lowered his hand. I couldn’t say what I needed to say with a guy’s hand placed possessively on my cheek.

  “Eddie, when we were dating back then I had such low self-esteem. I’d only just started to learn who I was, who I wanted to be.”

  He shrugged. “We were young.”

  “More than that, I was lost. You were so good for me in so many ways.” He smiled at me. “And so bad, too.” His face dropped. “Eddie, I’m my own person. I make my own decisions. I have a career and friends and a place in the world.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you saying?”

  “I guess I’m saying, I don’t need you anymore. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

  “But, I love you and you love me. Whatever this whole ‘kick-ass girl’ thing is you’ve got going on now”—he gestured at me as though I were an object—“I still want to be with you.”

  “You want to be with me despite me being a ‘kick-ass girl’?” I asked, my eyes agog.

  “Well, not if you put it that way. That makes me sound like a total ass.”

  I pushed myself up off the sofa, my inner “kick-ass girl” standing tall. “In some ways, you are a total ass, Eddie. And I’m not going to sit around while you pursue your dreams and disregard mine. It’s not going to happen.”

  “But . . . but you can’t do this to me!” He stood up to his full six-foot height, putting his hands on my shoulders. “This has been the best week of our lives.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, not for me, but it has been a really valuable lesson.” My heart softened a little. I had just called the man I’d been in love with for years an “ass.” The least I could do was try to let him down gently now. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Eddie, I was in love with you for so long. When I saw you at the Cozy Cottage, I thought you were my Prince Charming, come to save me.”

  “I am your Prince Charming,” he said, stroking my cheek like I was his pet.

  I held his hand by his wrist once more. I shook my head. “No, you’re not. And you know something? I don’t need a Prince Charming, and I don’t need to be saved.”

  He looked at me in utter bewilderment, as though I had told him the sky wasn’t blue.

  And then, his face changed. “You’re going back to that guy you were seeing, Nash.”

  Pain seared through my chest as I thought of Nash and me at the Cozy Cottage Jam. I had been so close to him, so happy. He had been my equal, the man for me, someone who saw me for who I was, not what they wanted me to be.

  And I’d totally screwed it up.

  “You’re right,” I acquiesced, a brick heavy in my belly.

  “I knew it!” He slammed his fist into his hand, his lips thin with anger.

  I shook my head. “But he’s not my Prince Charming, either. He’s the guy I’ve fallen for, the guy I want to be with. And even though he doesn’t want me, I’m going to try my best to win him over.”

  “You’re leaving me for someone who doesn’t even want to be with you?” His eyes were wide.

  I chewed the inside of my lip and nodded.

  “That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” he scoffed, his face reddening. “You haven’t changed, you’ll never change.” He spat his words at me like gunfire.

  I stood, stock-still, unable to move, my nostrils flaring, my eyes narrowed.

  “You’re chasing a phantom, a ghost. This guy doesn’t want to be with you, just like I didn’t want to be with you. But still you waited all those years, like the sad, pitiful person you are, hoping I’d change my mind.” He peppered his words with spite—this man who had professed to love me only moments ago.

  I could do without that kind of love.

  I clenched my fists at my sides. This was not the way I’d seen this conversation going. But then, I hadn’t been the one to break up with Eddie in the past. Perhaps he was always this bitter and nasty when a woman wised up to him?

  Without a further word, I slipped the strap of my purse over my shoulder and began to walk toward the door.

  “Oh, yeah, there you go. Go on, run to him, or rather, run back to your bedroom so you can obsess about him for what? Seven years?”

  My hand on the doorknob, I turned to look at him, finally seeing him for what he was. He was so angry, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam tooting out of his ears, his mouth frothing. I took a deep breath, knowing deep inside I had done the right thing. “Goodbye, Eddie.”

  “Yeah, whatever!” He threw his hands in the air and turned his back to me.

  I pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, letting out a relieved sigh, pulling it shut behind me. As if I needed any further validation, that conversation drove the nails irrevocably into the coffin of our relationship.

  I walked steadily down the hall to the elevator, proud of what I had done. I had stood up to the man who had wanted to keep me down.

  I had been true to myself, and there was no turning back.

  Chapter 22

  I slumpe
d out of Eddie’s apartment building onto the street, jabbing at my phone to order an Uber. I had no clue where Nash would be on a Saturday evening, but I needed to find him and tell him how I felt.

  I paced up and down the sidewalk, eager to put distance between Eddie and myself—and get to Nash as soon as I could. Where is that Uber! The bees in my belly were replaced by my old friends, the overexcited hamsters and that Destiny’s Child song about survival became my theme song. I was a survivor, I wasn’t “gon” give up.

  I was going to get Nash back if it was the last thing I did.

  A hybrid vehicle slid up to the curb after what felt like an hour of pacing like a caged tiger. Relieved I was finally making progress, I clambered in the back seat and the driver drove off. I figured it was still early enough that if Nash had plans tonight, he may still be at his home. The car pulled up outside Nash’s place, and my belly flip-flopped when I noticed a couple of lights on inside in the evening dusk.

  He was home.

  At Nash’s front door, I paused, taking some deep breaths in a vain attempt to quell my nerves. What was he going to say? Had I hurt him too much for him to take me back? Or, had he missed me and would greet me with open arms?

  I did a silent prayer for the last option, raised my hand, and knocked on the door. I held my breath and waited. And waited. I knocked again, louder this time. He has to be here!

  I heard the sound of a door opening, and my heart leapt into my mouth. This was it. This was my moment.

  The door swung open and there Nash stood, looking at me in surprise.

  “Hi,” I managed, my heart beating so loudly in my ears it almost drowned me out.

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” His voice was hard, angry.

  “I . . .” In all the time I’d had on my way to Nash’s place, I hadn’t worked out what I was going to say to him. I’d only got as far as, “Take me back!” And, I admit, I had hoped that would be enough.

  He raised his eyebrows in expectation.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. He might not have been friendly, but at least he hadn’t slammed the door in my face. I was hanging on to anything I could.

  I heard a puppy’s excited bark, and my eyes darted to the door. What I wouldn’t have done to have a time machine and zap myself back to when I was sitting on Nash’s sofa, dogs everywhere. Before Eddie, before I broke up with Nash, making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Nash didn’t move. Instead, he stood, holding the door in one hand, glaring at me.

  I chewed the inside of my lip. I wasn’t giving up hope. “Okay. I get it, you’re angry. And I don’t blame you. But can you at least hear me out?”

  His handsome face was hard, his jaw locked. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  So, no invitation inside. Got it.

  I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to find the words that would soften his heart, that would allow him to forgive, that would bring him back to me.

  I swallowed, hard. “I’m so sorry. I totally messed up. I . . . I thought Eddie and I were meant to be together, but I was wrong, so, so wrong. We’re not. He’s . . . well, he’s not the man I thought he was. It’s over.” I took a step closer to him, my heart hammering even louder.

  He didn’t move a muscle, his narrowed eyes trained on me, silent.

  “Do you think . . . we could try again?” I held my breath, hopeful.

  “Try again?” he repeated, his brow knitted together.

  “Please?” I took another step closer and reached out for his hand. As my fingers found his, he flinched, stepping back from me.

  “Why?” He shook his head. “Why would I do that to myself, Marissa?”

  “Because . . . because we were good together and . . . and I think I’m falling for you. In fact, I know I am. Nash, I . . . I love you.”

  He let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’ve fallen in love with me?” He shook his head, stroking his chin. “You have the weirdest way of showing it, you know that, right?”

  My bottom lip trembled, and I hung my head, thoroughly ashamed of my behavior toward him. I knew I had treated him badly, I knew I probably didn’t deserve a second chance with him, but I wanted him, oh, so much.

  I had never felt this way about a man.

  I looked back up at him and pushed my hair behind my ears. “You’re right. I haven’t treated you well. But please give me another chance. I’ve changed, I . . . I know things about myself I didn’t know before, and I want to make this work . . . with you.”

  My speech over, I stood, waiting, the bees, the hamsters, a veritable menagerie of creatures, racing around my belly. He had to take me back. I knew how I felt about him; I knew it was love. Surely, he must have felt it too?

  Eventually, he pressed his lips together. He shook his head. “No.”

  My mouth dropped open. Did he really just turn me down? “No?”

  He shook his head again. “It’s too late, Marissa. I . . . I can’t.”

  I tried to swallow, my mouth as dry as a sandpit. Inside, my heart was breaking in two.

  A puppy barked, and my eyes darted to the door beside him once more. “How are the pups?” I asked, desperate to stay with him, for our conversation not to be over—even if his words were killing me.

  His face softened. “They’re good. I’ve managed to find homes for a couple of them.”

  “Lucky?” I whispered, not sure I wanted to hear his response.

  “No, not yet. I’m taking her and the other two to the SPCA soon. Hopefully, they’ll find them good homes.” His face was humorless, blank, impossible to read.

  “Oh.” I thought of the conversation we’d had about the number of dogs that needed homes—and the number whose lives were ended if such homes didn’t eventuate. “Can I at least say goodbye?” I asked, my bottom lip betraying me as tears welled in my eyes.

  He studied my face for a long moment, then silently stood back to let me step into the hall. With shaking legs and a pain in my heart, I stepped over the threshold, breathing in the familiar scent of Nash’s home. I waited until he had closed the front door, then I opened the door to the living room. Two of the remaining puppies, Lucky included, were so close to the door, I almost banged into them as I pushed it open.

  I crouched down with tears blurring my vision, patting the two dogs and telling them how beautiful they were. The third puppy came bounding over to us, jumping up Nash’s leg. When Nash wasn’t forthcoming with his affections—I know how you feel, puppy—he turned his attention to me, climbing on me and licking my ears along with Lucky and her litter mate.

  I wiped my tears away and looked up at Nash. He was still watching me closely. “They’ve grown so much.”

  “That happens with puppies.”

  I smiled at him and I was sure I detected a hint of a smile on his face, but it was gone in a heartbeat.

  Two of the puppies bounded across the floor, back to their mother, leaving Lucky, nuzzling me and trying to lick my face. I looked down into her big brown eyes, my heart melting at the sight of her. “Goodbye, little girl,” I said, my voice choking as my heart broke afresh. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Lucky gave me a final lick, her tail still wagging a mile a minute. With the brick in the pit of my stomach, I placed her on the floor and watched her scamper over to Nash. He collected her up in his arms.

  “Well, I suppose I had better get going. Unless . . .?” I bit my lip, holding my breath, my eyes trained on Nash. He still had Lucky in his arms, looking every inch the stoic dog rescuer he was.

  His eyes met mine, and he held my gaze for a beat, two. And then he looked away from me, and I knew he was lost to me. “Yeah, you’d better get going.”

  And thud, my heart dropped to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

  It was done. Nash had made his decision. He didn’t want me.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I took the few shaky steps to the door and placed my
trembling hand on his arm. I looked from Lucky’s liquid brown eyes up into Nash’s. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears flowing down my cheeks, feeling the sting of regret with every fiber of my being.

  He looked away from me, his jaw locked.

  With a lump the size of Texas in my throat and tears streaming down my face, I pulled the living room door open and immediately closed it behind me. I stood for a moment, my mouth dropped open, a brick in my belly, trying to process what had just happened.

  It was over.

  And it was all my fault.

  Chapter 23

  After weeks of practice and ever-building excitement, mingled with a healthy serving of first-time nerves, the Cozy Cottage Jam Open Mic was finally here.

  Bailey and Paige had allowed me after-hours access to the café last night, so I was able to practice my song in the very spot I would be delivering it soon. I had sat on the stool, the strap of my guitar slung over my shoulder, and sung my heart out. And it had felt good. Of course, I had sung to an empty room, but for Paige, who had been good to her word and stayed hidden from my view in the kitchen.

  I glanced around the entranceway to the kitchen, out at the café. It had begun to fill up and I stood, my hands clasped, shifting my weight from foot to foot, running over the words to the song in my head.

  Take me into your loving arms, kiss me under the light of a . . .

  Wait, was it a thousand stars or a million stars? Or was it the stars and the moon?

  “I’m getting it right now,” Bailey said as she walked through the door, empty tray in her hands. She glanced at me as she placed the tray on the counter. “Nervous?”

  “A little,” I lied.

  “You’ll do great.” She walked into the pantry at the back of the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a pre-prepared plate of snack food.

  “I hope so. I only wish—” I bit my lip, thinking of the one person I wanted here the most tonight, the person who never wanted to see me again: Nash.

  “Wish what?” Bailey asked.

  I swallowed, my mouth dry. “I don’t know. This whole thing was . . . well, it was Nash’s idea.”