I glance at the time on my cell phone for the tenth time, my lips pursed in annoyance because Lucas is forty-five minutes late for our dinner. I know he isn’t the most punctual person in the world, but he has never been this late before.

“Where are you, you freaking idiot?” I mutter, staring at the front door. I’ve been sitting at our usual table for one hour now, feeling lonely and humiliated, especially since the restaurant is filled with happy couples who occasionally shoot me pitiful looks.

“Emily?”

My name suddenly echoes through the air.

“Oh, no…” I whisper, closing my eyes and trying to brace myself for the voice that somehow manages to make me smile and curse at the same time.

“What a coincidence,” the voice continues, making it clear that no matter how hard I try to ignore it, it won’t leave me alone until I look up and offer a fake smile—or tell it to go to hell.

I redirect my thoughts to my happy place—my chocolate-bar paradise—take a deep breath, and finally reopen my eyes. The next thing I know, I’m gawking at the man standing in front of my table, the same one I’ve been avoiding for the past four weeks.

“Hi, Andrew,” I greet him politely, despite the strong urge to throw my glass of water at his ridiculously handsome face and run far away.

“Good evening, Emily.” Andrew stares at me for a moment before gesturing toward the stunning brunette with green eyes standing beside him. “This is Mia.”

“Hi, Emily. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, smiling brightly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mia,” I lie, because no, it really isn’t.

“Mia is a model,” Andrew adds, even though I didn’t ask him to elaborate on his date.

I frown for a moment, still a little confused, then give the young woman a reluctant thumbs-up. “Okay… good for you, Mia.”

On the outside, I’m smiling. On the inside, though, I’m mentally scolding myself for caring that my childhood crush is here with someone so beautiful like her. Actually, you know what? I take it back. I don’t care. Andrew means nothing to me, and he can marry her for all I care.

“I see you’re enjoying the night by yourself,” Andrew remarks, pointing at the empty seat across from me.

“Oh, no. My friend is meeting me in a few,” I reply, taking a sip of my now-cold water in an attempt to calm my nerves.

“Well, in that case, Mia and I will be sitting right over there.” He points to a discreet table at the back of the restaurant. “Have fun with your friend, Emily.”

I give him a small smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. If only I could punch him in the face before heading to Lucas’ apartment to give him a piece of my mind for abandoning me tonight of all nights…

“Bye, Emily.” Mia waves before spinning on her heels, letting Andrew lead her away, the latter glancing back at me one last time.

Right on cue, my smartphone starts vibrating.

“What?” I snap, not bothering to check who’s calling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mily,” Lucas repeats over and over.

“Where are you? I’ve been waiting for one hour,” I hiss, enraged.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t have dinner with you tonight because I’m meeting someone else in twenty minutes,” he explains, somehow making everything worse.

“Are you kidding me?” I bark, springing to my feet and dropping the glass of water onto my lap—there goes the new dress I bought on sale for twenty dollars. Tsk.

“I know I’m a terrible friend,” Lucas admits, his breath ragged.

“Why are you out of breath?”

“I’m literally running to the cinema because I don’t want to be late for my date.”

“Wow. That really makes me feel better, Lucas. Thanks for letting me know you’re bailing on me tonight,” I snap before ending the call and tossing my cell phone onto the table.

“Emily, would you like a glass of white wine? It’s on the house,” one of the waitresses offers kindly, gesturing for me to sit back down.

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you,” I mumble as uninvited tears spring to my eyes, shame flooding me. 

Oh, my gosh, how ridiculous am I right now? I’ve just caused a scene in my favorite restaurant, been abandoned by a close friend, and Andrew and his date have witnessed everything.

“Here you go, Emily. Take a deep breath and call me when you’re ready to order. Don’t let a man ruin your night because he’s not worth it.” The waitress sets a glass of wine in front of me, giving me a sympathetic smile and a little wink.

I manage to return her smile before gulping down the drink, letting the alcohol try to dull the sting of anger and embarrassment swelling inside me. Sure enough, tears slip down my cheeks despite my efforts to stop them, and seconds later, I’m sobbing like an idiot whose trust was broken long ago, making me feel even more foolish.

As I struggle to compose myself, I feel the table shift slightly and the presence of someone sitting across from me. I don’t look at who it is, though—I’m too absorbed in my misery.

“How come you cry every time we meet?” Andrew’s voice cuts through my fog. 

I glance up, surprised to see him sitting there alone. 

“Here, you can use my handkerchief.” He hands me a white one that smells faintly of soap.

I take it hesitantly and dab at my tears, saying nothing. Meanwhile, Andrew calls the waitress and orders two salads, two portions of pasta, and a bottle of white wine.

Minutes later, the wine is served. Andrew pours me a glass without asking, which I drain in one gulp, desperate for anything to numb the pain.

“Why are you here, Andrew?” I finally find the courage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper after what feels like an eternity of silence.

“I’m here because I’m your date tonight. In other words, we’re having dinner together, and then I’ll drive you back to our building, walk you to your apartment, have some coffee, and steal my mug back.” He smiles playfully.

To say I’m speechless would be an understatement, and all I can do is gape at him.

But… why?

“I took a rain check on my date with Mia because you need me more,” he adds, answering my unspoken question.

“But I don’t need you,” I blurt out.

“I can see that you don’t,” he snorts, gesturing toward the damp spot on my dress from the water I spilled earlier, my smudged mascara—this is what I get for not buying waterproof makeup—my disheveled hair, and my phone lying on the table, its screen cracked, probably from when I slammed it down after yelling at Lucas.

“I’m fine by myself, Andrew,” I insist, as I really, really don’t want to spend the rest of the night with him. In fact, all I want is to get tipsy, eat chocolate, and be angry at Lucas in peace.

“Can you stop acting like a stubborn date and accept my priceless company?” he scoffs, waving his right hand dismissively. “I just sent home the woman I’ve been trying to go out with for weeks so I could stay with you, Emily. Besides, no matter what you say or do, I’m not leaving you alone, mainly because you stole my mug and I want it back.”

“So what? You can report me if you want. I’m not giving it back; it’s mine now,” I clap back, shooting him a defiant look.

“You’re unbelievable, Emily,” he smirks.

“Thank you,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” he remarks, his lips curving into a smug smile as he tops up my glass with more white wine.

“As if I care,” I grumble, rolling my eyes again.

The waitress interrupts our moment by placing the plates of food on the table. She then gives me a knowing look after glancing at Andrew, silently pointing out the obvious—that my company happens to be very handsome.

“Pasta,” I exclaim the second I lay eyes on the fettuccine in creamy white sauce. “Okay, maybe I do need you after all.” I shove a forkful into my mouth.

“And there it is,” Andrew says with a chuckle, throwing his hands up in mock celebration. “She finally admits she needs me tonight.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Andrew,” I retort, lifting my glass of wine. “I was talking to the pasta.” I take a sip, lick my lips, then dive back into the pasta, savoring every delicious mouthful.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He winks at me playfully.

Even though I’m still confused by this unexpected turn of events, I can’t stop myself from smiling at the sight of Andrew Keegan sitting across from me, eating his fettuccine and sipping his wine like this is the most natural thing in the world.

I lost count of how many times I dreamed about going on a date with him when I was a teenager, and now here I am. He chose me tonight, even though he must be convinced by now that I’m completely unhinged.

The thought makes me happy, much to my own dismay and desperation.

* * *