Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Don’t forget I can track you,” Dorian reminded her as she misted Maisie’s face with setting spray.
“You sound like a stalker.”
“I am.” Dorian laughed.
“A safety stalker.”
“I should get that printed on a shirt.”
“Funny.”
Dorian stepped aside to give Maisie a full view of her hair and makeup. “Once you put your dress on, you’ll look perfect. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Maisie smiled, but it felt forced and not very genuine. The doubts were clearly plaguing her mind. “That’s if he shows up.”
“The only reason he won’t is because he doesn’t read the paper. The island is small and the likelihood that he read it, or at least someone told him about it, is in your favor. Trust your gut.”
Maisie stared at Dorian and shook her head. “My gut says to crawl into bed with a tub of ice cream and watch sappy movies all night long.”
“No, that’s your fear talking. Get dressed. I’ll be in the living room, waiting.” Dorian walked to Maisie’s door and then turned around. “And wear your red heels. It’s Valentine’s after all.”
Maisie stayed at her vanity until long after Dorian left. Deep down, everything her best friend had said made sense. Maisie had absolutely nothing to lose, and besides, what was the worst that could happen? He could not show up, but then Maisie could very well flirt the night away with the bartender.
She went to her closet and pulled out her black dress. It was one of her favorites to wear out, when she had the chance. Maisie zipped it as far as she could and stepped into the heels Dorian told her to wear. They were her Louboutin knockoffs. Someday, she’d own a real pair. Once she could stomach paying close to a grand for a pair of heels.
Maisie stood in front of her floor-length mirror, turned to examine how she looked from each side, and declared herself ready for nothing and yet everything. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and said, “Tonight is your night. Live it.” And that was exactly what she planned to do. Dorian was right, Maisie had nothing to lose. If this mystery man from aisle whatever didn’t show up, so be it. The chances they’d run into each other ever again were slim.
She swung the door open with a newfound purpose and strode into to living room with her hand on her hip, sashaying into Dorian’s view. Dorian whistled as Maisie spun in a circle, and then Dorian zipped Maisie up the rest of the way.
“Do you feel as confident as you look?”
Maisie nodded. “You’re right. I have nothing to lose so I’m going to go there, sit at the bar like you said I would, and watch the door like a hawk. I remember what he looks like so as soon as I see him, I’m going to wave. He either shows up or he doesn’t. Either way, I have to try, or I’ll wonder about what could’ve been for the rest of who knows how long.”
Dorian clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s the spirit. Your Uber is almost here. I’ll go outside and wait with you.”
Maisie slipped into her coat, made sure her wallet was in her clutch, and put her phone in her coat pocket. Her and Dorian went outside and walked down the stairs, meeting the car in the parking lot. The friends said goodbye and Maisie promised to text with updates if she had the chance. She really hoped she didn’t.
Rose’s was a ten minute drive from Maisie’s apartment. The nerves that had subsided thanks to Dorian’s successful attempt of distracting her were now back with a vengeance. She wished Dorian was there to hold her hand or push her toward the door because all she wanted to do was tell the Uber driver to take her home. As reluctantly as possible, Maisie got out of the car and resigned herself to the unknown.
She waited in line at the host stand, constantly looking over her shoulder to see if Mr. Butter was behind her. Each car that pulled into the parking lot, increased her anxiety. She couldn’t help but feel this was all a mistake. Maisie closed her eyes and reminded herself of the prize at the end of all this apprehension she felt. If she got to meet the man that caused her to feel like this, then it would all be worth it.
“Hi, can I help you?” the host asked her.
Maisie opened her eyes and stepped toward the stand. “Hi, I’m checking in for my reservation, Maisie Hoffman.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hoffman. Your table will be ready in thirty minutes. Until then, you may wait out here or go inside to the bar.”
“Thank you. I’ll be at the bar.” Before Maisie stepped away, she added, “Um, I’m sort of on a blind date. I told him I’d meet him at the bar.”