Page 31 of From Rivals to I Do

“Ooh wee!” Noah yips as I walk in. “Looking mighty fine there, Pops.”

“Where are you headed to?” Zack asks.

“If you must know, I’m headed out for coffee with a friend,” I reply, and the two boys let out a low gasp.

“No way,” Noah says. “You’re going out on a date?”

“Mmm,” I say, “something like that.”

“Come on, boys, don’t give your daddy such a hard time,” Mitch insists. “But a bolo tie? Really?”

“What’s wrong with my bolo tie?” I ask, and they all look at one another before they burst into laughter. “I think she’ll like it! She likes the cowboy look.”

“Well, then, maybe it’ll work in your favor,” Mitch says with a grin.

“Hope so,” I say, feeling my nerves creep up a bit.

“Eli, I’m sure you’re gonna do fine,” Mitch replies, leaning back in his chair. “We will hold down the fort here. You go have fun.”

“Thanks, Mitch,” I say as I go to open the door. “I owe ya one.”

“Nah, I’d say we’re even,” Mitch replies with a wink, flicking the toothpick in his mouth to the other side. “I’m just glad you took my advice! Now go on before you’re late!”

“O-oh, yeah, right,” I say as I hurry out, the heavy storm door clattering behind me as I get in my truck and start it up.

“You can do this,” I give myself a pep talk as I rev the engine, looking at myself in the rearview mirror, setting my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose. “You deserve it.”

All the way there my hands are clammy and sweaty, so much so that I have to stop for a second to dry them, so they stop sliding all over the steering wheel. If this is what I’m supposed to do to move on. . . why do I feel so guilty? I ask myself. Even though Mel herself told me that she wanted me to be happy, and Mitch told me she probably wouldn’t want me to be lonely, it still feels like seeing another woman is like cheating.

But how do you cheat on someone who’s long gone?

The drive feels like it’s taking forever, but as I pull into the parking lot, it suddenly doesn’t feel like it was long enough.

I sit there for a moment, staring at the place with my door on the handle, once again wondering if I should just turn back. But it

wouldn’t be right to leave a lady waiting, so I take a deep breath, open the door, and head inside.

I get inside and take off my sunglasses, folding them up and setting them on my collar as I scan the room. I’m looking for a blonde in

a red, polka-dotted dress, and I quickly find her in the furthest back booth like we’d discussed.

As I walk closer, her features become more defined as she looks at a menu. Her pouty red lips are the first thing I notice before

realizing she’s all dressed up, her blonde hair curly and her lashes long and fluttery.

She finally looks up, and I freeze in place as our eyes lock on one another’s. Where there were once butterflies, I’m hit with a horrifying realization.

The pin-up look.

Those eyes. . . affixed in a horrified look as she stares at me.

It’s the crazy pie lady! You’ve got to be kidding me. . .

***

“E-Eli?” I ask, my voice quivering, recognizing him instantly. How is this happening right now? I ask myself. It’s the guy from the grocery store that ran into me! But if he knows it, he doesn’t show it as he steps closer and reaches his hand out toward mine.

“Yep, that’s me,” he says with a smile. “And you must be Darla.”

---