Page 13 of Wildest Dreams

“Then you’ll have a great story to tell your grandkids one day! Besides, you already said yes. You can’t get out of it now.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“We only have two days to pick out your outfit. Let’s go upstairs!”

* * *

Patsy vetoes everything in my chifforobe, which serves as my closet since the loft doesn’t have one big enough for anything other than a mop and bucket.

I close the office early and we walk to Cotton Blossoms Boutique. Patsy picks out a strapless green and white gingham dress and white sandals. I used to wear clothes like this all the time, but they ended up in the Goodwill bag when I moved.

“You look amazing!” she says, staring at me in the circle of mirrors in the dressing room. “Like your old self.” Patsy honestly looks like she is about to cry.

I don’t know whether to be touched or annoyed. “My old self was a sap.”

“Come on. This is the perfect outfit for your date.”

I reluctantly agree, buy the dress and shoes, and go back to my loft, where I spend the rest of the evening with the remote and a bag of popcorn.

PIERRE

Iget to Cattywampus Brewery early. It’s in an old red brick cotton mill on the river with faded white lettering on the side. I park my rental car in the gravel parking lot, quickly glance around the spacious inside bar area to make sure Kendall hasn’t arrived yet, then head to the back porch.

There aren’t many people here, which I’m grateful for. The last thing I want is to be mobbed right when Kendall shows up.

The patio to the rear of the brewery is long, stretching the whole length of the place, and outfitted with rocking chairs and little wrought iron tables. I walk to the end and sit down in a creaky chair, taking comfort in the knocking sound as I settle into a rhythm.

This place is more peaceful than I could’ve imagined, though I shouldn’t be surprised, given how idyllic the rest of the town looks. There’s a long staircase going down to a massive dock with picnic tables at the water’s edge. Somewhere close there’s a barbeque grill going, sending the aroma of juicy pork to where I’m sitting. My stomach roars. I should’ve eaten before I came.

It’s warm out, so I’m wearing a crisp white collared shirt with the top few buttons undone, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. As always, my baseball hat is pulled low and I don’t remove my sunglasses.

I probably check my phone a hundred times before I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Kendall walks onto the patio, looking amazing in the sweetest dress I’ve ever seen. Her long brown hair is down with loose, heavy curls at the ends, and though she’s wearing make-up, it’s minimal enough to not take away from how effortlessly stunning she is.

I stand up and take off my glasses so she’ll see me. She walks with a short, quick stride, her hair bouncing over her bare shoulders.

“Hi! I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No, not at all. I’m always early.”

“Okay.”

We stare at each other. We’ve got to stop with this awkwardness. She’s going to think I’m a moron. I’ve never been uncomfortable with women, but she makes me so nervous.

“Should we go in and get a drink?” I ask.

“Absolutely!” she says with a toothy, tight smile. I think she’s as tense as I am.

When we walk in, the freezing air conditioning makes the skin on my arms prickle. Behind the bar, a weathered middle-aged lady takes our orders. She obviously recognizes me but doesn’t make a big deal out of it, which I appreciate. She chats for a minute with Kendall and asks about her family while she pours our beer. Kendall gets the Pussycat Blonde and I get the Swamp Ass Stout. After we get our drinks, I open a tab and we settle at a table in the back corner of the room, where I face the wall so only Kendall can see me.

“I love the beer names,” I say, grateful to have a conversation starter.

“Oh yeah!” she said, her face lighting up. “When they opened a few years ago, they did a whole contest in the weeks leading up to the grand opening. People came to get samples and cast ballots for names. If your idea won, you got a huge gift card. It was fun.” She shrugs her shoulders. She seems giddy, though still a little uneasy.

“Sounds like a great idea. So, have you always lived here?” I ask.

She takes a sip of her beer and politely wipes her upper lip. “Yep. Born and raised. What about you? I guess you live in Hollywood or something?”

I laugh. “Bel Air.”

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