I was just trying to make a good first impression on my brother’s fiancée. But the second she saw my boyfriend, she dropped the dinner and went pale. That’s when I knew—this wasn’t going to be just another double date.
I could hear the rain ticking on the windowpane like a nervous metronome, fast and light, as if the sky itself had butterflies. My palms were damp. I kept wiping them on my jeans, again and again, trying to shake the nerves out of my skin.
The small bedroom felt like it was shrinking, like the walls were pushing in. Luke, my boyfriend, didn’t seem to notice. He was stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles, like he had all the time in the world.
“You’ll be fine, Em. It’s just supper,” he said, flashing me that easy grin of his. “You like pasta, right?”
I stopped pacing just long enough to roll my eyes.
“It’s not about the food,” I muttered. “It’s about meeting her. Rachel.
The girl who got Caleb — my Caleb — to actually propose.”
Luke let out a low chuckle. “Don’t be jealous,” he said, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. “You’ve got me.” He winked, leaning forward.
“And if we keep going the way we are… might be a double date tonight, double wedding next year.”
I felt my cheeks go warm. That was the thing with Luke. He always knew how to say something just bold enough to make my heart skip.
Marriage didn’t scare him. Commitment didn’t make him flinch. That kind of confidence pulled me in, made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’d found something real.
The cab ride over was quiet except for the hum of tires on wet roads and Luke’s fingers brushing against mine. By the time we pulled up in front of Caleb’s place — a small house with yellow porch lights glowing in the drizzle — I wasn’t shaking anymore. Caleb opened the door before we knocked.
He looked older than I remembered. Taller too. His hair was a little longer, and his smile was easy, familiar.
“Luke, right? I’ve heard a lot about you,” Caleb said, reaching out for a handshake. “Only good things, I hope,” Luke replied, firm grip and all charm.
“Rachel’s finishing up dinner. She’ll be right out,” Caleb said, stepping aside and waving us in. The living room smelled like garlic and something creamy.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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