Page 86 of My Rules

“What if we run into them?” I look around guiltily.

“Then we run into them. Who gives a fuck?”

“I do.”

“Look.” He turns the car off. “We both know they’re going to be too busy high-fiving all night to look for us.”

I get the giggles as I imagine the scenario. “Poor Ruby.” I open the car door.

“Yep.” He winces as he gets out of the car. “I do kind of feel bad leaving her with that dweeb.”

“Oh.” Disappointment fills me as I realize how selfish I’ve been. “I’m sorry. I ruined your date, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “The fact that as soon as I had an out, I took it is a good indication of where the date was going anyway.” He picks up my hand and links it through his arm as we walk along. We are on a busy street full of restaurants and bars.

“How come you don’t like her? She’s, like ...” I try to search for the right analogy. “Perfect.”

He twists his lips as if unimpressed. “I don’t know. On paper, she’s perfect. I just don’t feel it.”

“Feel what?” I stare up at him.

“Anything.” He shrugs again. “Baffles me, too, don’t worry.”

“Oh.” I have an epiphany. “You don’t like her because she’s a woman who you could actually fall for.”

He thinks on it.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I ask.

“I honestly don’t know.” He pushes through heavy dark wooden doors, and we arrive in the coolest place I have ever been. It’s dark and moody with a mix of big velvet couches and cute little tables for two. It has huge pendant lights and a marble bar. Music is playing, and the crowd is eclectic.

“What is this place?” I gasp in wonder.

“Bruno’s, my favorite dessert bar.”

“This is a dessert bar?” My eyes widen in astonishment as I look around.

“Only the best for my champion pole vaulter.” He throws me a playful wink.

I get the giggles. “Where the hell do you come up with this shit?”

“Can I help you, sir?” the waiter interrupts us.

“Table for two, please.”

“This way, sir.” We follow him through the restaurant, and he holds his hand out to a low table in a bay window that faces the street. “How is this?”

“That’s great.” Blake smiles. He pulls out my chair, and I sit down. There are colorful pansy flowers in window boxes on the outside of the bay window, and two long white candles are in silver candlesticks in the center of the table. The waiter hands us two menus. “Can I get you any drinks to start?”

“I’ll have an Irish coffee,” Blake says.

My eyes flick up to him. “What’s that?”

“Coffee with a nip of alcohol. Trust me, it’s good.”

“Make that two, please.” I smile. The waiter leaves us alone, and I open the menu to see rows and rows of dessert. I begin to read down the list.

Chocolate fondant

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