Page 18 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

I stop reading.

‘First date, huh?’ the note-passer asks.

I nod, neatly folding up Carlos’s essay into smooth precise quarters before placing it in my pocket.

‘Well, I’d trust your friend. Zach seems nice.’

‘How’d you know his name was Zach? Oh. Right. CIA.’

She frowns, holds her hands up and says, ‘I wanted to make sure I wasn’t passing you something from some psycho-stalker, so I read it. Plus, I’m nosy.’

I smile at her. ‘Appreciate it.’ I study her casual yet put-together look in admiration. Jeans, shirt, subtle makeup but hair down and killer heels.

That’s what I forgot. The heels. Maybe if I hadn’t forgotten it wouldn’t be so easy to slip into non-date lunacy-talk. ‘Are you on a date, too?’ I ask.

‘Yeah. But he’s a total mouth-breather. I was messaging my friend to beg her to stop by and save me when I was stopped by your guy out there. Thought I’d kill a few minutes in here.’

‘Sorry about your date,’ I say, feeling guilty Carlos was having to save me from myself by writing instructions for me.

‘No problem. Got to kiss a lot of frogs, right? Unless this George guy is a prince then I’d definitely recommend you kissing him. A lot.’

‘George?’ I’m instantly distracted from my teary thoughts. ‘I have no idea whether George is a prince or a frog. I have no business knowing.’

‘Uh-huh. Well, good luck. By the way, your shirt is buttoned up wrong, did you know?’

I look down.

Good grief, I am so tragic at this. I must have re-buttoned it wrongly earlier. On the plus side, Zach hasn’t said a word and how cute is that?

I re-button shirt and sleeves with a new determination. ‘Thanks. You too,’ I reply as I prepare to go back to the table and repair the damage.

‘Hey, us serial daters got to stick together.’

Serial dater?

I just want someone to hang out with at the weekend.

And possibly someone to take to my cousin’s wedding a year plus from now. Someone my CIA-trained family won’t read as an individual I’ve plucked off the street.

As I return to the table and take my seat, Zach says, ‘So, neither of these two mentioned what you do?’

‘What I do?’

‘For work?’

I feel the apology for my strange outburst followed by abrupt exit sort of slip off my face. His reaction is going to be the reason I don’t pull out all the stops to get a second date.

I draw in a breath. ‘I’m a cleaner.’

‘Cleaner?’

‘Yep. Cleaner.’

‘Domestic, office, or assassin’s assistant?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Not at all. Just trying to find out a little bit more about you.’

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