Page 51 of When We Meet Again

A night’ssleep came and went, and I still didn’t get any more messages from Roman. I’m rattled. Is this a test? Why does he want this again? Does he get off by seeing me with someone else? Not going to lie, I don’t want to yuck someone’s yum, but that’s not my thing. What ifhewants to date someone else? I may have been obsessing over it all night, and I may not have slept well at all. But it’s morning now, I can’t stop myself from texting him because I have zero chill.

Me:This date you’d like me to go on, would you fancy making it a double date?

I hope he has a hangover. My fingers start to shake as I wait for him to message me back. I feel like I’m in middle school.

Roman:You’d be okay seeing me with someone else?

Me:Probably not. Because I can’t stomach the idea of seeing you with anybody but me.

As I standin my closet, I realize now more than ever that I have nothing to wear. I guess until I go shopping I could always recycle outfits I wore out with Roman. I’m feeling a little freer in the way I dress. Nobody to comment on how few clothes I’m wearing, or how they don’t suit my age.Screw that.

The camisole I wore on the plane to Italy hangs before me. I pull it out remembering how the silk rubbed against my bare chest as I was flush against Roman’s back on his motorcycle. It’s like muscle memory; my body instantaneously responds to thethought, and I feel a tingle in my lower stomach and the familiar pool of wetness between my legs when I think about him.

Snap out of it, Waverly. “Now is not the time to think abouthimwhen I’m getting ready for a date with Chucky’s dad,” I murmur to myself.

I tuck myself into a pair of dark skinny jeans, and pull the cami over my head, this time opting for a bra. Not sure I want Connor staring at my tits the whole night. That’s an instant ick.

As I slide a thin layer of gloss over my lips and take one final look in the mirror, my doorbell sounds, which is strange because nobody ever uses it. Like it will wake the kids I don’t have or something. Tonight, I decided to go with a simple ponytail. It’s my comfortable hairstyle. Can’t go wrong with a long ponytail and a cute pair of earrings—if I was trying to impress him, that is.

I open the door to see someone far opposite than a redhead. His hair is a dark auburn, and his eyes are as blue as the ocean. Yes, he has freckles, but he is definitely not Chucky.OrChucky’s dad.

“Connor…?”

“Right in one. And you’re the lovely Waverly, I take it.” A panty-melting Irish accent slides from between his lips. I let out a quiet gasp that was part laugh, part shock. He isnotwhat I was expecting… I’m going to kill Victoria tomorrow. Or thank her… I don’t even know.

I realize I’ve been silently staring for longer than is normal, “Hello! Hi! Um…” I can feel myself getting flustered and do what any normal hermit would do when confronted with a situation of this magnitude. I wave. Two feet away. And. I. Wave.

Amusement flickers in the eyes that meet mine. And he waves back. He. Waves. Back.God, help me.

“Are ya hungry?” He gestures to his car.

I nod, step out, and lock the door behind me. He hasn’t moved from his position, and is now extremely close. A combination of Patchouli and cinnamon fills the air. It’s a mix that shouldn’t work, but on him, it’s perfect. “I’m starving. I’ve been waiting all day for Casa’s guacamole.” I lie. I usually order out the same meal every time I eat there. A double shrimp fajita with two orders of chips and salsa. I’m a simple woman.

We walk to his car in silence as he swings his keys around his finger. “You know, Victoria did ya no justice.” He opens my car door. So I guess it was only Patrick who never did that. Apparently, every other man does it. I shake my head trying to rid myself of the thought of how angry I am at Patrick. More and more every day. My eyes have been opened to a new world, and I can see now that that is settled. I think I’m even more mad at myself for letting it happen for so long.

I feel a finger on my chin, and I lose my breath. “None of that, ya hear? No overthinkin’. It’s just a date. Have some fun. Free margaritas—if that’s your drink of choice, that is.” I nod, again, offering him a smile and his mouth twitches with amusement.

“Told ya I was anything but adorable,” he smirks before closing my door.

My phone lights up the side of my bag and I take it out to check it.

Roman:I regret telling you to go on a date. I was drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly

Can we talk after? I have something I need to say…

I leave him on read. As much as it pains me to hear it, maybe going out with someone else is exactly what I need. Because whether I want to admit it or not, I don’t want Roman to be a rebound either.

“Everything okay?”he asks while snapping his seatbelt.

“Everything’s fine. Great car, by the way.”

He smiles as we pull out of the gravel lot. “Thanks, it was my dad's. They don’t make Shelbys like they used to.”

And I want to tell him that his car is almost as old as I am, but I leave that little tidbit to myself.

Dearest Waverly,

I hope you had a wonderful 40th birthday. It’s a big year. This is the moment you get to make the decision to ‘live by being here now.’ This isn’t to say challenges won’t appear, it’s when you change the way you think, the enormity of the problem is dissipated. How will you handle it moving forward?

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