Page 87 of The Do-Over

I took extra care when I got ready, slathering on lotion and letting my hair air-dry (with the help of hair product and a diffuser on my blow-dryer) to soft waves. Standing in front of the mirror, I examined myself and I liked what I saw. I felt that more and more these days. Happy with me, the extra pounds didn’t bother me as much as they used to. Come to think of it, I hadn’t much thought about calories or weighing myself in weeks. I ate when I was hungry, and I ate what I wanted.

Nate knocked on my door at 6:30, freshly showered, his expression uncertain, almost nervous. He held out a bouquet of wildflowers.

“They’re beautiful.” I took the bouquet and cradled it in my arms like it was precious. The kittens were back, tumbling in my stomach. “I’ll go put them in some water.”

Nate waited in the hallway, and we walked to his truck in silence. On the drive, Mathias’s words replayed in my head. Just go with it. Good advice and I wanted to try, if I wasn’t such a ball of nerves and potentially embarrassing phrases.

We arrived at a tiny bistro about fifteen minutes later. Nate held the door open for me, and I was greeted by a man around my father’s age with a full black beard and shiny bald head. He escorted us to a table by the window. Strands of twinkle lights draped from the ceiling. The walls shone a warm soft yellow in the flicker of the tabletop candles.

“This place is amazing,” I said as I examined the artwork decorating the walls. They ranged from framed hand-drawn pictures to oversized oil paintings. Nothing matched. I loved it. “How did you find it?”

“I asked a few people at work.” His eyes drifted around the room. “It reminds me of you, actually.”

Our gazes met. A smile hovered around the corners of his mouth; my cheeks heated. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The server brought water and a breadbasket. The kitten party in my stomach almost made it impossible for me to eat. Almost.

While I slathered on rosemary-garlic butter, I stole glances at my companion. This was another side of Nate—not cool construction dude or cool responsible father or cool college student. Tonight, he was just… cool hot guy. His shoulders filled out his navy coat jacket. A plaid button-down peeked from underneath. He was undeniably handsome now—the kind of handsome that grows on you. I swallowed and looked away.

Nate cleared his throat. “So, Persephone, huh? Where’d that name come from?”

I scowled. “Please forget you know that.”

“Too late. What does it mean?”

“It means my mother was in charge of picking my name.” I sighed. “Persephone was the Greek goddess of springtime and flowers. She married a charming guy named Hades, aka Lord of the Underworld. They struck a deal—she’d spend six months of the year in Hades and six months topside every year.”

“So, the original prenup, then?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Goddess of springtime and flowers. That fits you.”

“That’s very nice of you to say.”

“I’m not saying it to be nice.” He paused. The dim light spilled across his face, reveling in the sharp crags and edges. “Do you know what I like about you?”

“Honestly? No.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You always seem to make me smile.”

“I don’t think that’s on purpose most of the time.”

“I know. But you still make me smile. Haven’t felt much like that since Mara died.”

“I’m glad I can help,” I said, my voice low. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Friends. Right.”

But it was hard not to imagine what else we could be.

We spent the next hour enjoying a good meal and better conversation. We talked about things we liked to do as kids—reading for me, skipping school for him. We discussed our favorite movies and music and foods. We joked, we laughed, we enjoyed each other’s company, and it was good. Great. Fantastic.

Just like familiar friends of old.

After dinner, the slow descent of the sun had cooled the air enough for Nate to suggest a walk around the neighborhood.

“Thanks for bringing me here and for paying. You didn’t have to,” I said.