Page 77 of Meet Me at Midnight

I’m feeling more and more confident in the viability of us as a match by the day, and tonight, two weeks into agreeing to give this thing a real shot, going to this special dinner together feels like a long time coming.

Avery is out with some of her friends from hot yoga, and I begged off with excuses of a cold starting to settle in.

I know I’m going to have to tell her the truth about Beau and me at some point, but this is all so new. I just want a little more time to ourselves before I do. I’ve waited what feels like my whole dang life for this fantasy to become a reality, and I’m in no rush to change that.

For now, Ineedto keep my perfect Beau and June bubble intact.

Beau leads me inside with a pull of my hand, notifying the hostess of our arrival and getting us escorted to a table in no time at all. Cardone is one of the hottest restaurants in the city, so I’m surprised he was able to get a reservation at all, but he makes it seem like it’s no big thing.

In this case, I guess our wealth and connections really do make all the difference.

The back room is dark, lit only with candles, and French glass doors separate it from the rest of the restaurant. Blood-red pillows are on high-backed black velvet chairs, and a waiter with a white linen draped over his arm waits at the side of the table.

Beau holds out the chair on the far side of the room for me to take a seat first, and I awkwardly curtsy before sitting down. His smile is warm and wide.

“What was that little thing you just did?” he asks, his smile equal parts sexy and amused. “Did you justcurtsy?”

“I don’t know.” I widen my eyes as I look around the room. “I figured you must be royalty with this fancy setup.”

He chortles. “I figured you’d want privacy just in case we ran into anyone we know.”

“Oh. Yeah,” I agree. “That’s probably a good idea.” I focus on putting my napkin in my lap and taking a sip of water as he takes the chair across from me. My cheeks are aflame—I can feel them—but I’m not entirely sure why.

“I’mnot trying to keep us a secret,” he hedges carefully. I guess he knows me well enough to know I’m having a minor internal crisis. “But I know that’s what you want.”

“It’s just so much easier for now, don’t you think?” I question, but an uncertain grimace shows my shaky truth. “Until we establish some footing? I mean, what happens if you decide to move on in a month? Suddenly, I’m not allowed at Banks’ family dinners and have to settle for my parents’ empty house instead?” I cringe and shake my head. “Sounds terrible.”

“That would never happen,” Beau assures. “If it doesn’t work out between us for some reason, everything with the family will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” I push, knowing Beau’s tendency to promise the impossible. He’s well-meaning, always, and so ambitiousit’s admirable, but this world we live in is hardly as perfect as we want it to be. Sometimes things don’t work out. Sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes, even, everything falls apart.

He pauses, but he makes a point to lock his steady gaze with mine. “I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

I shrug, playing off the ocean of anxiety that churns inside me now. The Bankses are the only real family I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine what I’d do without them. “I just don’t know how Avery is going to react either way.”

“Why wouldn’t she want her best friend to be with her brother?”

Beau’s thinking is simple, how I imagine most men’s is. But in the female mind, I know it’s more complicated than that. It would be for me, and all I have to go on is my imagination. My parents thought having one child to ignore was more than enough.

I shake my head instead of answering. I don’t know how to explain it.

“All right. Enough Avery for tonight. Let’s focus on us.”

“Okay,” I agree.

He’s right. I didn’t get trussed up in a lace bra, thong, and a dress I can’t breathe in for nothing. This is Beau we’re talking about, and I’m on adatewith him. Younger me would be absolutely apoplectic.Why on earth am I wasting it talking about his sister?

“You look really handsome tonight,” I say, allowing myself the unexpected privilege of appreciating his hotness out loud.

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely. Hard-cut jaw, just the right amount of scruff, and a well-fitted suit atop your muscles?” I close my eyes dramatically, push a hand to my chest, and then open them again. “It’s your best look.”

He laughs. “What’s my worst?”

I shrug. “Probably the Tyvek suits you and Neil wore two years ago when your mom got a wild hair to paint the pool house door on Labor Day weekend.”

He groans. “It might be a slight disadvantage that you know so much information. I’m used to being able to show a highlight reel for at least the first three weeks of dating.”

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