Page 12 of If It Can't Be Us

I’m wearing a loose pajama set with matching shorts and a tank, and I’ve just realized I forgot to put a bra on this morning. Not that it matters because I don’t have saggy boobs—I have implants, a perfect large B, small C on a good day. Ben always said they were the perfect handful. But freeboobing in a loose shirt makes me feel more sweaty and undone. Right now, I just feel gross from unpacking all day. I need a shower and to get out of the house. I decide to get ready and treat myself to a nice dinner. It’ll be good for me to explore the city.

While showering, my mind wanders to the embarrassing encounter with my new neighbor a week ago.God, he was so hot!I had come straight inside from my run and immediately texted Sarah about him. I keep replaying it as I wash my hair. I’d turned around for what I intended to be a quick glance at his glorious body, but ended up gaping at him for a few seconds too long.

Oh Lordy, his body.

Wow.

I didn’t know eight-packs existed in real life—I’ve only seen them on Instagram. His joggers had been riding so low that if they had slipped any further, he would have exposed the goods. I can’t get the sexy V shape of his muscles, prominently pointing down to his package, out of my mind.

God! He caught me staring at him!I was practically drooling, like I was in junior high again, watching my crush in Geography class. I groan in frustration, rolling my eyes, and roughly tugging at my hair while I rinse the conditioner out.

Ugh. How do I play this out?

It’s been a week, and I haven’t seen him since. I pray it won’t be awkward when I do. I know I’ll have to meet him at some point, but I hope that the more time passes, the more it will be forgotten.

I choose a cream, sleeveless, bodysuit with a plunging V-neckline and pair it with high-waisted, loose black leather shorts. The outfit is perfect for a date with myself. Since it’s going to be warm tonight, I grab my black heeled leather strappy sandals from Jimmy Choo. I switch my hair part daily and settle on barely off-center, finishing with soft waves. I chopped my hair two weeks before the move and am still getting used to it; my oncelong locks now brush my collarbone. Anything would have been an improvement from how I looked forty-five minutes ago, but as I stare into the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I decide that I look pretty damn good.

I walk back into my closet, reach for my black YSL bag, and stock it with my essentials for the evening. I turn to my jewelry drawer and clasp two simple gold necklaces around my neck. One has a small V for my name that falls to the center of my cleavage, drawing attention to the ladies—never a bad thing—and the other is a plain gold chain that sits two inches above it. I complete my look with a ring I had made with the ashes of Ben and Evie. It’s a double-banded gold ring with an opal-like stone in the center. It’s dainty, beautiful, and I wear it every day. As I slip it onto my middle finger, my eyes linger on my wedding ring. I removed it a few months ago when I started dating more frequently. It’s simple; a gold band from Tiffany’s.

Absentmindedly, I start to rub my thumb over its smooth surface, my mind drifting back to when Ben had planned to ask me to marry him. I’d made it clear that I didn’t want any jewels or diamonds. I’m not flashy with my jewelry and love simple pieces, so while he’d had the money to buy me a big gaudy ring, I hadn’t wanted one. My stomach rumbles, pulling me back to reality.

It’s 6:45, and I’mstarved.With it being a Friday night, I know there will be long wait times. I check the mirror once more and, feeling confident, I head out for the night. There’s a restaurant around the corner that my friend, Kara, told me about. It has rave reviews, and after looking at the menu, I’ve been anxious to check it out. I step outside and breathe deeply, taking in my new surroundings for the next year.

It’s a beautiful summer night, and the temperature is perfect. My Maps app says it will be a ten-minute walk from my house—a walk I’m looking forward to after being cooped up all day. I step outside, the warm breeze brushing against my skin, and start my stroll. Luckily, these heels happen to be one of the more comfortable pairs I own.

* * * * ** * * **

Holy shit.The restaurant is packed. I had anticipated that I would need a reservation, but with it being the last minute, I didn’t attempt to make one. I squeeze through the crowd to the hostess and pray they can fit me in.

The hostess looks up and smiles. “Good evening, do you have a reservation?”

I shake my head. “Do you have open seating at the bar?” I ask hopefully.

“We do.” She nods and points behind her. “The bar is behind me and to your left, toward the back. You should be able to get a seat within fifteen-twenty minutes.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Our cocktail waitress is Ellie,” she points toward a tall blonde girl. “She can open a tab for you anytime, if you’d like something while you wait.”

“Thank you.”

I navigate through the bustling restaurant, the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the hum of conversations filling the air. The ambient noise is a mix of soft jazz playing in the background and the occasional shout from the kitchen. It’s the perfect place to lose myself in the crowd and enjoy a night out.

I walk toward the back of the bar, taking in the sleek lines and meticulous modern decor. The lighting is dim and moody, casting a soft glow in just the right places. I can’t help but appreciate the aesthetic harmony of the space.

At the bar, I eyeball people’s plates to see if anyone looks close to leaving. An older gentleman has a credit card in hand, waiting for his check. I flag down Ellie and order myself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. I really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach—I’m a lightweight—but it will help pass the time.

After ten minutes, the gentleman gets ready to leave. I’m hovering, ready to dart for the seat. As he stands, the bartender throws a reserved sign down on the countertop, at the now empty seat that I have been waiting for.

What. The. Hell!

Frustrated, I glance at the couple next to the now reserved seat. They look as if they could be leaving soon. Hopeful, I wait patiently and Ellie brings me my drink. Ten more minutes, a full glass of wine, and a buzz tingling through me, I’m finally able to sit.

A drink menu is placed in front of me at the same moment an old fashioned is set down at the empty seat next to me; the invisible customer getting phenomenal service.

“Good evening, miss. My name’s Noah. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Are you dining with us or just having drinks?”

“I’ll be dining.” He places a food menu next to the drink menu. I order a charcuterie board and browse over the menu.

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