Page 14 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Four

Eliza watched the door close as Beckham returned to his office. The pieces of the Beckham puzzle she’d started assembling in her brain after their Christmas together rearranged themselves yet again. She’d put some distance between them because she’d said way too much on Christmas and had felt embarrassed. She didn’t blab her drama to strangers. Strangers paid money to blab to her. Plus, he’d been judgy about her dating app. And she may have possibly made some comment about tattoo licking. She’d deny that last part in a court of law, but she’d figured it would be best to reestablish boundaries. Chalk up their adventure to a Christmas Day anomaly of two lonely people connecting when the real world was on pause.

But then tonight he had to go and show…concern? Calling her Eli. Acting like a friend. She didn’t know what to do with that, but it was abundantly clear that he did not approve of her date. The therapist part of her wanted to knowwhy. Because he saw her as a friend to be worried about? Because he sensed something about Ryan? Or maybe, as usual, she was just overthinking things.

It was probably just residual judgment about the world of online dating. She needed to stop worrying about Beckham and get to her date. She’d already made Ryan wait too long.

She went into her office, typed up a few quick notes from the exhausting therapy session, and then grabbed her purse. An unexpected wave of hesitation washed over her when she reached the door. Maybe she should cancel the date. If Beckham had gotten a bad gut feeling about the guy, maybe that was worth paying attention to? She was a big believer in gut feelings, the intuition. Our brains and bodies picked up so many subtle cues and signals that our conscious minds didn’t register. She could go home, order some takeout, and watch a Netflix marathon instead.

But she quickly dismissed the idea. This had been Beckham’s read, not hers. She didn’t know him well enough to put any stock in his gut feelings. Maybe she was only looking for excuses because she’d had a long day and didn’t know if she had the energy to muster enthusiasm on tonight’s date. But going home and couch-potatoing it all night would only make her feel worse. Not to mention, it’d be rude to cancel on Ryan when he was already here and waiting. She could manage a meal, and she could definitely use a drink. Plus, Ryan was cute. Any guy who actually looked like his profile picture was already a boon.

She needed to tap into her reserves and get downstairs for the date. If she wanted things to be different in her personal life, she couldn’t sit home and wait for life to happen. She had to put herself out there. A soul mate wasn’t going to randomly stumble into her lap while she sat on her own couch watchingFriendsreruns. Maybe Ry-like-the-bread wastheguy. Maybe he’d surprise her. Maybe one day they’d laugh over their anniversary dinner about how she was late for their first date and how he asked her coworker if she was hot.

Eliza smiled to herself, her resolve returning. That was what she needed to keep at the forefront of her mind—maybe this was the first date that would change everything. She couldn’t lose thatmaybe. That maybe she’d one day have the kind of love like her parents had for each other. She needed to hold on to that to get her through the exhausting parts of dating. She’d seen what happened to clients when they lost hope for a better future. Without that belief that it could happen for her, she would be left staring down a lifetime of solo Christmases, a lifetime of watching rom-coms, knowing she’d never have that kind of permanent, lasting love in her life. She didn’t want to peek down that hallway in her psyche. That path would lead nowhere good.

Dating sucked most of the time, but life rewarded action. She needed to keep swimming, even if it was upstream.

She locked up her office, glanced at Beckham’s closed door, and then strode with purpose downstairs for her date, giving herself a little internal pep talk.

Tonight will be a good night.

Tonight will be a good night…

***

Tonight was a terrible mistake.

Eliza sat up straighter in her chair at the restaurant and tried to focus on what Ry was saying, but her head was swimming with all his words—many of which wereIandme. The guyreallyliked to talk about himself.

“I’m the youngest supervisor at my firm.”

“I’m about to buy a beach condo in Florida.”

“I know it’s a bad investment, but I can’t resist getting a new Mercedes every two years. There’s just something about that new car smell, you know?”

At some point in the last half hour, she’d lost the thread of the conversation and had only been catching snippets while she gulped the cocktails that kept arriving with each new dish and watched other couples at other tables who seemed to be having actual two-way conversations. But this time he’d asked her a direct question. She cleared her throat, downed the newest shot that had been placed before her, and feigned a smile. “Right. Or you could save yourself the money and just buy one of those car air-freshener thingies that smell like new car.”

A line appeared between his brows. “That’s not the same.”

Inwardly, she sighed. Score in the understanding-humor column? Zero out of five stars.

Before she could respond, he was on to another topic. Something about bitcoin. She hardly knew what that was. Beckham would probably know.

But on and on it went. She’d tried to keep an I’m-listening expression on her face, pulling on her therapist skills to look engaged, but her ability had faltered with each new drink she’d downed.

They’d gone to The Stacks, a cool little gastropub near the French Quarter that Ryan’s friend owned. The walls were lined with old books, and the whole place had a secret-hideaway vibe. She’d loved it instantly and had thought it was a good omen for the date.Order whatever you want, Ry had said confidently when they’d arrived.Jake and I go way back.

Jake the owner had insisted on presenting them with a tasting menu so they could get a bit of everything. Deep-fried crab dumplings, creamy artichoke crostini, seafood gumbo in shot glasses, rice balls stuffed with shrimp étouffée, and most recently, for dessert, bread pudding with a salted caramel sauce and mini-beignets. The food had been delicious, but cocktails or shots had been served with each dish. Jake had insisted that they complemented the food and would enhance the experience. That the whole concept of The Stacks was pairing each appetizer with the perfect drink.

Both Ryan and Jake had assured her that the food would be enough to absorb the alcohol, that the menu had been planned that way. But after dessert, her head started to swim in a dangerous way. She was usually careful on dates, keeping her intake to a minimum, but she’d underestimated the amount of booze in the drinks. Her chair felt as if it was starting to sway, and Ryan’s words were running together in her head.

Jake the owner walked up. “How we doing over here?”

Eliza narrowed her eyes, trying to focus, and forced a smile. She gave a thumbs-up. “Great.”

But the word sounded weird in her head.Great. Greeeaatt.

She focused on her thumb, which looked to be splitting into two thumbs.Uh-oh.She tucked her hand under the table.

---