Page 64 of The Valentine's Bet

Do Parker and I even have anything in common?

I mean, he grew up in New York City in a broken home—and I lived outside of Chicago with parents who loved each other. He’s a total grump, and I’m, well—the total opposite.

“Anyway, I hope you have a lot of fun at the event tomorrow night,” Nellie says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I catch her eye as she stands to her feet. “Me, too.”

I can’t sleep.

The conversation I had with Nellie replays in my mind like a broken record.

As hopeful as I am about finding the right person, I’m still a little unsure what exactly theright personfor me even looks like.

As I lay in the dark, I start to think about the questionnaire I filled out. In it, they asked about my preferences, hobbies, and interests. But ... most of the answers were just surface-level. They didn’t dig deep into who I really am or what I’m truly looking for in a partner. Surely a successful and long-lasting relationship is based on more than shared interests and surface-level compatibility.

The more I toss and turn, the more I realize that I want someone who loves me like my dad loves my mom. He looks at her like she’s the only person in the room, like she’s his whole world. I want someone who will be my rock. Someone who will stand by me through thick and thin, through all of life’s ups and downs. Someone who understands my quirks, who forgives my flaws, and who sees the real me beneath the facade I often put up for the world. Someone who will fiercely respect, protect, defend, and uplift me. Someone whocan challenge me to be a better version of myself and encourages me in my pursuits and dreams, just like my dad does for my mom.

Just like Dad does forme.

As the first light of dawn creeps through the curtains, I make a decision.

No matter what the matchmaking event brings, I won’t settle for anything less than a love that mirrors the one my parents share.

“I look great,” I say to myself, standing in front of the full-length mirror in my apartment. The walking boot is only a slight setback, but if someone judges me for that, then I don’t want to be with them anyway.

My black skinny jeans hug my hips and thighs, and my black bootie on my other foot evens out the difference in height. My olive-and-cream striped sweater is fluffy, but not so much that someone can’t see my figure.

I push my freshly curled hair behind my ears and pop my lips.

And then my phone rings.

I spin around and grab my purse off the bed, assuming it’s Eliza calling last minute to wish me good luck. But that’s not who’s calling.

“Are you bailing tonight?” I answer, not even bothering to greet Parker.

“No,” he says, drawing out the ‘o.’ “But Iamwaiting for you outside your apartment door. I thought it might freak you out if I just knocked.”

“Why?” I laugh, just as a knock sounds. “You’re so weird.”

“I know. Now let me in.”

Still laughing, I hang up and limp toward the door and swing it open. I take in the sight of Parker, his hair freshly smoothed out and his styleedgy.Black denim and a Ramones T-shirt under a leather jacket.

Jeez.My mouth grows dry as I take him in.He’s hot.But I shake it off, slapping a smile on my face as I meet his gaze. “You ready?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I think I should be askingyouthat.”

“Right.” I swallow, grabbing my jacket off the hook by the door. “I think I’mready. Do I look ready?”

He steps back slightly, his eyes meeting mine before running down the entire length of my body. My insidesquiverwith excitement and my face grows hot.

Are my cheeks red? Oh my gosh, I hope not.

“You look ready to me.” His husky voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Great,” I choke out, fumbling with my coat.

And just like that, he’s now standing right in front of me, his cologne intoxicating as he helps me slide my arms into the holes of my wool peacoat.

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