Chapter 5
First Rule of Dating: Show Up On Time
Igot to the restaurant with only a few minutes to spare.
“Thank you,” I muttered to my driver as I wiggled out of the cramped back seat.
I glanced around the outside of the entrance—no Harvey in sight. Then I walked inside—still no Harvey to be found.
“Do you have a reservation, miss?” the hostess asked with a kind smile.
I glanced up at her from checking the time on my phone; it was already 7:38. “I’m just waiting for someone,” I responded.
I opened up the app and shot off a quick message to Harvey:Just got to the restaurant.
I waited.
No response.
And I waited.
Still no response.
And I waited a little bit more, standing by the front entrance like a complete idiot.
I sent a defeated message to my girls:I think I’m getting stood up.
Caroline: Nooooooo!!!! He’s not there yet?
Sawyer: Maybe he was in a car accident? Let’s hope it’s that.
Annabelle: You hope he got in an accident? You have no shame, Sawyer! But I am so sorry, Harper!
Harper: I am going to give him about five more minutes and if he’s not here, fuck it.
Caroline: I am waiting for you with wine and chick flicks! I got you boo bear.
Caroline is drunk and alone in my apartment.I giggled at the thought of her curled up in my bed, cuddling a bottle of wine and watchingSleepless in Seattlefor the umpteenth time.
“Maybe I should just get our table,” I said awkwardly as I walked up to the host stand, where the greeter had been staring at me for the last twenty minutes.
“What name would the reservation be under?” she sweetly asked with sympathetic eyes.
I didn’t even know the guy’s last name.Crap.
“Harvey,” I stated confidently.
She scanned the appointment book in front of her. Pursing her lips, she glanced up at me. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t have that name. You can wait at the bar if you want to.”
Just as I was about to take her up on that offer, a man’s voice called out from behind me. “Harper?”
Turning, I was not upset by what I saw. Harvey was dressed to the nines in a three-piece, charcoal gray suit.
“I was starting to think I was being stood up,” I teased as I ambled over to him.
He kissed me on the cheek. “I got stuck at an estate sale assessment. This poor widower wouldn’t stop crying, and I didn’t have the heart to rush him along as he told me story after story about how much his late wife loved oil paintings.”
“You’re here now, and that’s what matters,” I reassured him as he walked to the host stand.