It’s been great getting together,” I say, summoning up my best impression of our mother’s passive-aggression. “But I have to go.”
I push my chair back and stand, and a crackle of energy pulls my attention to the restaurant’s doors.
I feel him before I see him. It’s unnerving. But I look toward the door knowing that Nathan Frost will be there. And when our eyes meet as he enters, it’s clear that he feels my presence, too.
Five years ago, I would ask my sisters if that magnetism were real or if I’m just imagining it. But I can’t do that now. I can’t trust that they won’t tell their mates on me.
The maître d’ is leading Nathan in our direction. At least, the maître d’ is trying to lead; Nathan is actually a step ahead. It’s too late to avoid him. Our paths will cross.
I don’t want to see
