My face heats from a mixture of embarrassment and anger, but I’m too stunned to say anything. My tongue feels twisted with all the things I want to say, but I don’t know where to start. I bite down so hard my teeth might shatter from the pressure.
“Mo-om,” Arthur whines, casting a quick glance at me then lowering his voice. “I was going to tell her on the second date.”
Yeah,thathe would’ve saved for the second date. My eyes roll of their own accord, and I don’t care if they see.
“Right, well, I’ll be back,” I say, grabbing my purse and practically sprinting toward the restroom. I will not be back. I wouldn’t go back if you paid me.
I almost feel bad for Arthur, having to put up with Barbara, but then again, judging by the things he was saying before she arrived, it’s clearly too late to save him.
Once in the bathroom, the blood rushes to my head, and I’m dizzy for a moment. I’m so overwhelmed I can barely think straight. I should march back and tell them this isn’t going to work. I should tell them to lay off any of Arthur’s future dates for his own sake. I should tell them I will never name my daughterBarbara, and that that definitely isn’t a first-date conversation topic. But the thought of that confrontation makes me even more dizzy.
The bathroom is small and empty; there are only three stalls and two sinks. I look around as if someone will pop out and offer to take my place on the date. My phone vibrates, and I realize I’m clutching it in my hand. It’s a text from Jay.
Have they kidnapped you yet? That’s the vibe I was getting from before.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. As I glance up, a small window over the sink catches my eye. No . . . can I? Am Ithatdesperate?
Without overthinking it, I shoot Jay a text back.
Do you think it would be terrible if I crawled out the bathroom window? I’m staring at it right now, and it’s looking really tempting.
I can’t leave without walking past the table, and I really don’t want to go back there. What are they going to say next? Demand I drop ten pounds or ask me my medical history for reproduction purposes? At this point, I wouldn’t put it past them, and with each passing second, the window looks more and more tempting.
Am I about to do this? I think I’m about to climb through a bathroom window. I’m about to become every bad date cliché. I open the door to the bathroom a few inches and peer at our table. Arthur’s holding a red velvet box in his hand, showing his mother the contents, and my heart stops. It’s too big to be a ring box, but I’m not taking any chances if it’s for me.
Closing the door, I take a breath for courage and hoist myself up onto the counter. My phone vibrates, and I pause to read Jay’s text.
Are you serious or are you being dramatic? I can’t tell.
It’s like Jay and I are in this together now, so instead of ignoring him, I send a video of my feet on the counter, then turn the camera to show the window just within my grasp.
He texts me back immediately.
The date is THAT BAD? You’re going to hurt yourself. Go back to the table and wait five minutes. Say hi mom.
Wait five minutes for what? The date to be over? Not a chance. And “hi mom”? What is he talking about? I’m not greeting Barbara asmom. I shiver just thinking about it.
Putting my phone in my purse, I fix the strap across my shoulder and push the window open. There’s no screen, so that makes my life easier. Using my arms, I lift myself and scan the drop. There’s a dumpster with a closed lid to the left of the window. If I aim, I might be able to land on it and climb down.
“Carina?”
I freeze.
“What on earth are you doing?”
I’m almost scared to look, but I do. Barbara is standing at the door. She has a frown on her face, and her head is cocked to the side.
“Oh, um . . .”I’m trying to escape!“I thought I heard some kittens meowing in the back alley. I wanted to see if they were deserted and needed some help.” The top part of my body is half out the window, and I exaggerate looking around. “Nope! Must’ve been my imagination.” Holding in a cringe, I hop off the counter, and my mind screams,No! I was so close to freedom!
Barbara nods like that was a perfectly reasonable excuse. “Arthur doesn’t like kittens, so it’s for the best you don’t get attached to any strays.”
Okay. This is just next-level insane. I feel like it must be Thursday night and I’m dreaming the worst date scenario to prepare for my date with Arthur, because there’s no way this is real.
“Are you ready? Let’s head back, the food is at the table,” Barbara says, holding the door open for me.
I can’t go back there. “Don’t you need to . . . ?” I trail off, pointing to a stall. Maybe I’ll have a better chance with Arthur alone. I can end the date as nicely as possible and scamper off into the night all before she returns to the table.
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. You were taking so long I wanted to make sure you weren’t talking to other boys. Come now.”