Page 14 of Masquerade Mistake

“My cousin told me you were nervous about meeting some strange guy, so I’m the one who suggested you show up at Hillside so you could see I wasn’t some scary guy. I didn’t know who you were when I bumped into you then, but the fact that you’re here is too big of a coincidence.”

“It’s a small town,” I say, “and this is currently the hottest restaurant. It’s not that big of a coincidence.”

“True, but Nina also told me you always wear a starfish necklace with blue opal.” He reaches toward me and pulls the necklace out from underneath my sweater in a move that feels more intimate than it should. My skin tingles after his fingers leave my skin. I clear my throat, trying to hide my sudden breathlessness.

“So, you weren’t going to dump me just because you saw a pretty face?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’m glad you’re you. My cousin told me you were pretty, but I had no idea.”

This time, I’m flattered.

Chapter 6

I’m not good with strangers. Not in real life, and not now as I sit across the table from Ethan. We have the menus in front of us, serving as a barrier to the awkward conversations we’re sure to share. So the reality of this date is hitting me hard, and I spend the longest time possible figuring out what to order so I can avoid talking to him.

It’s not long enough. The waiter comes and I know I need to make a decision or neither of us will eat.

“The turkey burger and sweet potato fries,” I say, and Ethan gets a bison burger with onion rings.

“And to drink?”

I’d planned on only water, but when Ethan orders a beer, I change my mind and go for a vodka soda. Maybe it will help my nerves.

I look in Ethan’s direction and blush when I see his deep brown eyes studying me. A nervous laugh escapes my throat as I give him a quizzical look. He offers a sheepish grin.

“You just seem familiar.”

“I mean, we did run into each other last night when I was apparently stalking you,” I say. He laughs at this.

“No, it’s something else. It’s probably nothing.”

“Well, I grew up here, and my friend Maren says you did too.”

“Maren’s the one who was singing last night, right? That girl’s got chops,” he says when I nod. “And yeah, I went to Pacific High, graduated eight years ago.”

“I graduated seven years ago from there, so you probably saw me in the halls.”

“Maybe.” He tilts his head, giving me a sly smile. “But if I’d seen you, I’d probably want to get to know you better.”

“Sure,” I laugh. “A senior going after a lowly junior. Besides, I doubt you would have seen me. I was a head down kind of student.”

“So, you’re a scholar. What college did you go to?”

I’m grateful that the waiter gets here with our drinks before I can answer. It gives me time to think. I don’t want to call missing college a regret, because Finn is a greater gift than a degree could ever be. Plus, I’ve done quite well for myself without going to college. But it was a decision I never would have made for myself. Before Finn, my plan to go to college weighed less on education and more on being my ticket out of here. And while I wouldn’t give up anything about the life I have now, there are times I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t had Finn. It wouldn’t be in Sunset Bay, that’s for sure.

So the answer to Ethan’s question is more complicated than telling him I never went. It introduces the dilemma about the right thing to do here: tell Ethan I have a kid, or don’t.

I take a long sip of my drink, hoping he’ll forget that he asked me about college. The vodka definitely helps loosen my shoulders, but it does nothing to erase his question. He stays silent, waiting for my answer.

“The college of life,” I finally say. I don’t see us having a future behind this night; there’s no reason to bring up Finn.

“Ah, the best college there is,” he answers, and I relax as he rolls past my omission. “I went to college in Colorado, but learned more about life from living with roommates and paying bills than I did learning about dead writers and antiquated stories.”

“Hey, some of those dead writers wrote some pretty epic shit,” I say.

He leans back in his chair, an amused look on his face. I feel a flame of annoyance at his apparent arrogance.

“Convince me,” he says.

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