Page 88 of The Dating Charade

The helium in her balloon of enthusiasm had depleted almost entirely by the time she yanked open the front doors and let herself back inside.

She shook her head to Donna Gene across the room.

Donna Gene frowned. Gave a single, white-flag sort of nod.

Then, to everyone’s amazement, she rolled onto her side and stood with the agility of a yoga instructor.

“It’s a Valentine’s Day miracle!” she cried, gazing down at her perfectly smooth dress. A moment later she latched on to the man’s elbow. “Now, how about we see if those strong arms can dance?”

Cassie watched the rear lights of the ambulance as it made its way down the quiet road.

Across the dance floor, beneath the slowly rotating disco ball, several couples began shuffling across the room. A few elderly men braved swinging hands side to side while their Tabor Cap Toes pivoted left and right by degrees.

“So?” Bree pushed a cup of sweet tea in Cassie’s hands. Several of the teens surrounded them at the window.

“It wasn’t him.” Cassie’s attempt at a smile was fading before she even finished her sentence. “Evidently Jett went on a date. You know, Valentine’s Day.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. I’m not surprised. If I was being totally honest, I don’t see why he wouldn’t have jumped on the dating train right after me anyway.”

The girls nodded uncomfortably.

Bree opened her mouth. “Cass—”

“Right now he’s probably cozying up to her at some restaurant, and she’ll be telling him all about the time she spends saving elephants from inhumane treatment in Thailand when she’s not curing cancer. He’ll say he wants to have babies one day, and she’ll say, ‘Oh, that’s so convenient, because I’m unusually fertile.’ Slip the ring on, they’ll swing through Drive-Thru We Do on the way back to his place, and by the end of the night he’ll have himself a perfect little Mrs. Bentley.”

Bree shook her head. “That’s not going to happen, Cass.”

“Why not? Our town is loaded down with drive-thru wedding chapels. I almost got married last week when I mistook one for Arby’s.”

Several of the girls started grinning.

Cassie continued miserably. “But you know what really kills me, though? Now I’m going to spend the rest of my life avoiding calling the fire department. I’ll have to rely on you guys from now on.” She took a sip, her throat dry in her self-depreciating speech. “Cooking one day and my cabinets catch on fire? Nope. Can’t call. My fuse box blows in a house that hasn’t been inspected in fifty years? Can’t call. I’m going to have to count on you guys as my bucket brigade for the rest of my life, just so I can avoid seeing him and that handsome face of his—

“If that’s true, I’m going to need to take a look at this fuse box you’re talking about.”

Cassie’s sweet tea sloshed over her hand as her stiletto wobbled. She felt her hand releasing the cup as Bree reached out to take it.

She turned.

There, standing before her very eyes, was Jett. Tall and handsome in a blue blazer, grey pants, tan leather shoes. Face clean-shaven. As stunning as she’d ever seen him, with his short hair gelled back.

And with him, three kids.

24

Jett

Dakota’s Mary Janes dug uncomfortably against the bandages covering the wounds from his neck down, but he didn’t dare move her from his side.

He’d taken pains getting them all dressed up, including a bath—which, given that those came about once a week, emphasized the importance of this moment. Even Dakota’s neck brace couldn’t diminish how beautiful she looked in her frilly pink dress with a bow that looked more appropriately sized for a sailboat.

He felt the tug of Drew in his right hand. Before Sarah had ducked off with Sunny she’d dressed him in a tiny gray vest with lime-green bowtie. Jett had reminded him only thirty times not to take it off on the car ride here.

From the stroller, even Timothy’s small fingers played with the button on his own matching vest.

“Jett . . .” Hesitation and hope filled Cassie’s eyes as she stepped forward. Her voice was soft, unsure, as though afraid he was an illusion. “I thought you had a date?”

Drew began to pull Jett’s arm toward the candy table, but he didn’t move. Jett’s lips turned upward slowly, eyes flashing with a hint of mischief. “I do. I just thought you might like to join us.”

Dakota lifted her head from Jett’s chest, and he let go of Drew’s hand long enough to swipe the curl blocking her view behind her ear. Even with several large unicorn bandages covering her cheek, she was beautiful. “I’d like you to meet Dakota. My niece.”