Match Me

Chapter 22

My VW sputtered along 94, the steering wheel shuddering as I pushed it to 65. The speed limit was 70. I was actually glad to be driving toward Minneapolis. Even though it was mid-week and the end of summer, traffic heading north was abysmal. Rush hour had come and gone and the sky to the west was sliding into dusk but the freeway was filled with trucks and RVs, all making their way north.

I heard a familiar female voice on the radio and I turned up the volume, hoping I could hear it over the chugging of my poor little engine. I sensed a new car in my very near future.

Taylor Swift was rocking a new anthem, something about never getting back together. I smiled as I listened to the lyrics. Somehow, I’d gone full circle in the song department—from crashing a wedding at her urging to nodding my head in agreement as she moaned about a failed relationship being exhausting.

Chase had been exhausting. Being in love with him had been exhausting. Not love, I corrected myself. Infatuation. And even though the song didn’t exactly fit—his marriage made it pretty obvious we’d never get back together—I took the song for what it meant to me. That I was finally done.

I followed Jill’s directions off 94, only consulting my phone once. It was as easy to find as she’d promised. A small building adjacent to the road, with a large fenced patio. Seeing a Polynesian-themed restaurant complete with tiki statues and tiki torches in the middle of Minneapolis was unexpected. I maneuvered my car into the narrow parking lot next to the restaurant and killed the engine.

I sat in the car for a minute and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I should have painted my nails, I thought. I had pink nail polish in one of my bathroom drawers.

I checked my reflection in the mirror. My make-up had held up and my hair looked fine. So what was I waiting for?

But I knew. For the first time in a long time, I was nervous about a date. Turtle Killer and Roberto were different—I hadn’t wanted to go, but I also didn’t worry over much of the details. For me, those dates had been obligations. I’d told Jill I would go and I did. Nothing more. And even though Turtle Killer had reminded me of Chase, I didn’t get tensed up before the date or feel butterflies in my stomach as I walked to the restaurant. Probably because I’d still been wrapped up in Chase. I knew where my heart truly was…or where I thought it was. With him.

But that was gone now. And I realized that I did care about this date. I wanted to make a good first impression. And, even with knowing absolutely nothing about the guy Jill had set me up with, I wanted it to go well.

I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady my breathing. Maybe I should have consulted the tarot before the date. Asked what to expect. Too late now.

I glanced at the time on my phone. It was almost 7:00. And I didn’t want to be late. I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

I walked across the parking lot to the patio area. Jill had told me to sit outside. A lot of the tables were already occupied and I scanned them for a man sitting alone. I didn’t find one.

So he wasn’t there yet. I found a tiny table tucked in the corner next to one of the tiki statues. I tried positioning the chair so that I could see the entrance but the statute was too big and I didn’t have enough room to navigate. Resigned, I sat down with my back to the entrance and waited to be surprised.

“Hey, Bonnie.”

I whirled around. “Paul!”

My surprise was genuine. What on earth was he doing in Minneapolis? Everywhere I went, he seemed to pop up. And I was never disappointed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He smiled. “A date.”

For some reason, my heart plummeted. “Oh. With Meg?” I tried not to scowl as I pictured the cute chef from Champs.

“Nah, someone else.”

Please don’t let it be Jenna, I thought. The last thing I needed was to see her smug face and hear her snide comments as I waded through my first phase-two recovery date.

I worked up the nerve to ask. “Jenna?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Good God, no. Give me a little credit.”

“You were out with her the other night,” I reminded him.

“I go out with a lot of people,” he said. “And she asked me. I was pretty sure I knew what I was getting there, but I needed to make sure for myself. I was right.”

A little sigh escaped me. He really was a nice guy. A good human, as Jill put it.

“Oh, OK.” I smiled. “Well, it was good seeing you.”

“You’re just dismissing me?” he said, more amused than annoyed.

“Well, I don't want to keep you. You know, from your date.”

I also knew Rule #1 for blind dates: don’t pass the time waiting for your blind date with a really nice-looking guy who is not your date.

He looked around. “Hmmm. Maybe,” he said. “But don’t you want to know who I’m here with tonight?”

My brow furrowed. No, I really didn’t want to know. Because I figured it might be someone else I didn’t approve of for him. But he clearly wanted me to ask.

“Uh, sure. Who?”

He smiled. “You.”

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