Page 23 of The Valentine's Bet

And another minute passes.

And another.

And another.

“Here’s your macchiato,” the barista says, setting my hot cup of coffee down in front of me on a napkin. “Would you like anything else?”

I shake my head. “No thanks.”

“Enjoy!” She ducks away, and I find my hope waning. It’s now twenty past seven—and Nate hasn’t even texted me back. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it.

But disappointment is one of the emotions thrumming through my chest.

My eyes bounce between the door and my phone. Two women sitting in the coffee shop get up to leave, and I watch them laughing and chatting.

I wish Eliza lived here.

Or my mom.

I swallow the pang of heartbreak and send my mom a quick text to check in on her—anything to pass the time before Nate shows up. I mean, if he works on Wall Street, maybe he had a big meeting?

But then why wouldn’t he tell me he was late or not coming?

Finally, at seven forty-five, the door to the place chimes, and hope swells in my chest. I whip my head up from my phone, taking in the tall, handsome man who just stepped in. He turns to look at me, and I freeze.

Why ishehere?

Chapter Eight

Parker

You’ve got to be kidding me.

What isshedoing on this side of town?

Of all the millions of people who live in the city, I run intoher.

And then, I make the mistake of staring at Amy a little too long. She looks visibly upset.

I consider just spinning around and bailing. I mean, we don’t even really know each other, and it’s not like we’re friends. But the moment a tear rolls down her cheek, I decide to walk over to her. She may be annoying, and a little over the top, but I do have a heart.

“Why areyouhere?” she asks.

I stop just beside her table. “Wow, okay. Nice to see you, too.”

“You’re just going to rub it in my face.”

“Rubwhatin your face, Amy?” I’m so confused right now, it’s not even funny. “I walked over here because you look upset—don’t villainize me.”

She lets out a sigh and drops her head into her hands. “He stood me up.” Her voice comes out muffled, and I barely make out the words.

“He stood you up? Who?”

“Nate.”

“Is that the guy from the blind date?”

She looks up at me, her eyes still glistening with tears. “Yes.”

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