“He’s not here yet. He’s late.”
 
 “But he is coming.”
 
 My smile wavers a little at that. “Of course he’s coming. Which is why I can’t accept the drink.” I slide it towards him with the tips of two fingers and I’m ready to walk back to my table before they give it to someone else, but he keeps talking.
 
 “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be pushy. I just saw you and I wanted to apologize.”
 
 I turn back around, suddenly feeling a little off.
 
 “What do you have to apologize for? I don’t even know you.”
 
 The man runs his hand through his hair nervously. “I’m Jax.”
 
 “Jax?” I ask.
 
 “From…the dating app.”
 
 I shake my head and lean my elbow on the bar. “I’m sorry. What are you talking about? You’re not Jax.”
 
 “I am…actually. Here, I’ll prove it.”
 
 Before I can say anything else or wrap my brain around whatever the hell is going on,Jaxpulls his phone out and then taps on the dating app. It’s the same one I connected with Dax on…back when I thought his name was Jax.
 
 “This is me,” he says, showing me the profile. The photo is the same as the one I remember, black and white a shot from the back, side profile only.
 
 “That can’t be you,” I say.
 
 “Unfortunately, it is. I only had one photo at the time because I was just looking for a hook up. But then I saw you and I realized what a nice girl you seemed to be, and I realized I couldn’t do it. Because even though you said that’s what you were looking for too, when I saw you through the window of the cantina, I knew you weren’t that type of girl. So, I chickened out, and I ghosted. I’m sorry.”
 
 I study the phone for a moment before handing it back. Dax and I– or Jax and I, should I say– unmatched right after the date. Shortly after that, I deleted my profile altogether. Thisman, who is using the same photo that I remember, has other photos posted, ones that are very much him and not Dax. And I have to admit…he does look similar to Dax, especially that first black and white photo.
 
 “This doesn’t make any sense,” I tell the guy. “Who are you really?”
 
 “My name is Jax. Jaxon Shaeffer. You can look me up if you want to. I swear to God I’m not a creep. Just a guy who made the mistake of standing you up. I really am sorry.”
 
 “You have no reason to be sorry…” I say robotically. I walk back over to the table and grab my purse and then I walk out of the pub.
 
 Once I am in my car, it fills with the sound of my rapid breaths, like I’m gulping for air, and the sound of my own heartbeat.
 
 If Dax wasn’t Jax…then who is he? And what are the odds? The names are similar. The photos are similar. And yet, he’s right. The real Jax I mean. I pull out my phone, noticing a text from Dax that he is going to be late. I ignore it and go to my text stream with Joni, scrolling back to when I first started talking to her about going out on a date. I sent her a screenshot of that black and white profile pic, and I need to see it again. Really see it.
 
 I zoom in on the hands, the face, the jawline…and then it hits me.
 
 The hands are wrong. I would know his hands anywhere because I have felt his hands everywhere.
 
 Not only that but the nose is wrong. The hairline is wrong. The whole fucking photo is wrong.
 
 It’s not Dax.
 
 And as I sit in my car, my chin quivering, and my heart slamming into my ribcage, I realize something. Something Dax said.
 
 This isn’t the first time Jenna has threatened to take custody of the kids.
 
 “And having a girlfriend could work in his favor…” I cover my mouth as tears spill from my eyes.
 
 I don’t want to believe it, but the truth is staring me in the eyes, fangs out.
 
 Dax is using me to keep custody of his kids.