Shit. She used my full name. She never does that. It’s always the short form, Charlie Mae. It makes me sound like I’m a Southern belle, but it’s less harsh than my actual full name.
MAEVE:
He told me you said you’d be in touch. And you haven’t been.
Bollocks. I did say that, didn’t I? I hate being wrong. And forgetting details. Or making mistakes. And I made a mistake.
MAEVE:
Char. Please get in touch with him, will you?
ME:
I’ll text him. I promise.
My response makes me feel small, like a scolded child, though I know my sister’s intentions are nothing but loving.
ME:
Give my niece a big squeeze for me.
Love you most.
MAEVE:
I love you most, sissy. Speak soon, all right?
I know I just need to get this over with before I talk myself out of it. Rafael and I have had each other’s numbers for a while. He insisted on it when he was Maeve’s bodyguard, in case anything happened. I pull up his name and start typing, deleting the message at least four times before hitting send.
ME:
Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.
Would you like to have our first meeting soon?
The three little dots appear almost instantly, and I nearly drop my bag as I fumble with my phone in my hands.
RAFAEL:
How’s tonight?
Tonight? Oh. It’s Friday night. Doesn’t he have a date to go on or something? And what if I had plans? As if. Of course I don’t, but he doesn’t know that!
RAFAEL:
Unless you already have plans. Maybe tomorrow?
Yeah, maybe I do have plans.
Except, I don’t.
ME:
Tonight’s fine.
My heart is hammering, and I cannot explain why.
Probably because you haven’t even talked to another human being other than the barista at the coffee shop down the road for approximately three days.