Page 14 of Dart to Me
Me: Would you like to try for an official date? One where your ex doesn’t crash the ending?
The dots appear and disappear twice before her response comes through.
Ellie: I’d like that.
I stare at those four words for a long moment, warmth spreading through my chest. I don’t want to seem too eager, but who am I kidding? I am eager.
Me: How about tomorrow night? I could pick you up at 7?
Ellie: That works. Where are we going?
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Somewhere nice enough to make it clear this is a real date, but not so fancy that it feels like I’m trying too hard.
Me: There’s a bistro next town over, Salvatore’s. I hear they have amazing risotto.
Ellie: Perfect. I love Italian.
I set my phone down, unable to wipe the grin off my face. Then I remember Miles and pick it back up.
Me: Just to be clear, your ex-husband won’t be joining us for dessert, right?
The dots appear almost immediately.
Ellie: Ha! No. I’ll make sure he knows I have plans.
The fact that she needs to tell him anything gives me pause, but I push the thought away. They share a history. It makes sense they’d still communicate.
Me: Looking forward to it.
Ellie: Me too. Goodnight.
I set my phone on the nightstand and lean back against my headboard. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough. But as I drift toward sleep, Miles’ face appears in my mind—the territorial way he stood in Ellie’s doorway, how comfortable he seems in her space.
What am I getting myself into?
ELLIE
I rush homeafter work to get ready for our date. What should I even wear? He is clear that it’s a date, so it sets certain expectations for the night.
I rummage through my closet, pulling out and discarding outfit after outfit. Too casual. Too formal. Too desperate. Too indifferent. Nothing feels right for tonight.
I finally settle on my favorite black dress—comfortable enough that I won’t be fidgeting all night, but nice enough to show I made an effort. I pair it with the silver earrings my sister gave me for my birthday last year and my reliable ankle boots.
Standing in front of the mirror, I take a deep breath. My reflection stares back, a mixture of excitement and nervousness visible in my eyes.
What if the conversation falls flat? No, don’t do that. There’s a spark. My mind goes back to the dance at my sister’s party.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Julian: Looking forward to tonight. Getting ready now.
My stomach flutters. This is really happening.
Me: Me too! See you soon
I apply a final touch of lipstick, grab my purse, and head for the door. Whatever happens tonight—awkward silences, spilled drinks, or maybe, just maybe, the start of something wonderful—at least I’m putting myself out there again. And right now, that feels like enough of a victory.
I step out onto my porch and find Julian stands at the gate. Good god! He has a black button-down shirt on but the sleeves are rolled up a bit, showing off his tattoos. He smiles when he sees me, and there’s a subtle shift in his posture—a straightening of his shoulders, a momentary pause that tells me he likes what he sees. His eyes meet mine, warm and appreciative.
