When Dunn picked me up, I’d almost talked myself all the way down from excitement to steady caution.
“He’s straight,” I’d told myself as I’d chosen my favorite outfit—a chunky white sweater that made me look “glowy,” according to Ava Siegel, who I trusted to know such things.
“So straight,” I’d told the mirror, after I’d gotten out of a fresh shower and styled my hair perfectly.
“Super-duper straight,” I’d whispered into the chilly air as I’d waited for Dunn on my front porch after Vienna had left and I’d locked the place up tight. “And that’s fine. I wouldn’t want to change him! I just want him to be happy.”
But then the man had shown up in a forest-green button-down shirt I hadn’t seen him wear since the Lickin’ Dinner Dance last summer, and a pair of navy pants that cupped his ass like they were in love with him too, and when he’d looked across the cab of his truck at me and said, “You know I’d never do anything to jeopardize our friendship, right, Tuck?” I’d lost my grip on the helium balloon of my emotions again, and my heart had squeezed so painfully I’d lost my breath.
Fact: We were at a date restaurant.
Fact: He was sure as heck dressed like this was a date, with no muck boots or fishing vest in sight.
Fact: He kept darting me glances across the table and acting all squirrelly and uncomfortable, which had never happened between us before. And while this would normally not be a good thing, it was yet more evidence that somehow, improbably, impossibly, Dunn Johnson had asked me on a date.
Sweet Jesus, Meemaw had been right all those years ago. Miracles really did happen.
“I think we should have a bottle of prosecco,” I told the server impulsively when she came to take our drink orders after dropping off water and warm rolls. “What do you think, Dunn?”
“Oh, uh. Yeah,” he agreed, tapping his fingers on the snowy-white tablecloth. “Good idea. Anything you like. And I’ll have a shot of Jameson. Neat.”
Uh… okay. That was sobering. Dunn wasn’t a big drinker any more than I was. Also worrying was the way his gaze ping-ponged around the restaurant, like he was too nervous to look at anything too long, especially me.
“Dunn, you know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me… anything. Literally anything. And I’d never judge you. Or push you,” I added, thinking that maybe fear of the unknown was tripping him up. “I can be patient, you know?”
Dunn’s eyes came to rest on my face, and he smiled. “’Course I know that, Tuck.”
“Then tell me what all this is about.” I reached into the basket to grab a roll, then twirled my hand in the air to indicate the beautiful restaurant and the reservation. “Spill your guts, please.” Before I lose my mind.
“Well.” Dunn swallowed. Cleared his throat. “I invited you here to talk about… love.”
I dropped my roll.
“Wow. Is it warm in here?” Dunn tugged at his collar. “Because I’m really feeling warm. Am I feverish? Or am I having an allergic reaction to discussing emotions? One time Mal said that Brooks used to be allergic to discussing emotions, but I thought he was being sarcastic. Now I’m thinking it’s real and maybe… genetic?”
“You’re not having an allergic reaction,” I whispered. “What about love?”
“Well, it’s like this, Tuck… You’ve given me so much over the years. You’ve been the best friend I could ever have—going ice fishing in the dead of winter when I know you’d rather have been home drinking cocoa, helping my family navigate all the medical stuff when my dad had his heart issues last year, stepping up as a legal guardian to Bernadette, even though you said you weren’t sure you wanted kids…”
“Dunn,” I said, squeezing my roll very tightly as I stabbed it with butter, while also trying to be patient like I’d promised. “I still don’t have kids. Bernadette is your pet pig—”
“Pfft. Pet. I’m a farmer, Tucker. Farmers don’t have pets, we have livestock.” He sipped his water. “Bernie just so happens to be livestock with special needs.”
Needs like extensive ear scritches. And a nightly bedtime story. And a legal guardian to manage her inheritance should Dunn pass away. But I wasn’t here to confront Dunn over his porcine pipe dreams.
“Keep going,” I suggested patiently and supportively.
Dunn’s eyes flicked to the butter knife clenched in my fist.
“Right. So, I want you to know that I see all you’ve done for me, all the support you’ve given me. The love you’ve given me. And I want to do the same for you. I want—”
Holy shit.
Holy shit it was happening.
I took a deep breath. I set down my knife and roll. I attempted to memorize the moment as best I could—the slight smoke tang from the restaurant’s wood-burning fireplace, the way the candlelight danced in Dunn’s eyes as he smiled at me with honest affection.
Breathe, Tucker, breathe…
“I want to find you a boyfriend.”
I blinked, confident I’d heard him wrong. I replayed the words in my head and blinked some more. I waited for him to apologize, to say he misspoke, but instead, he tilted his head like a puppy, confused by my confusion.
“Is this… are you blinking at me in code? Shit, Tuck, you know I’m not great with puzzles. Um. Are you spelling out ‘Thank you’?”
I closed my eyes very tightly and breathed through my nose. We’d learned in medical school about this phenomenon called phantom pain, the pain an amputee feels in a missing limb. I wondered if the pain I was feeling at that moment, like my heart was simultaneously breaking and missing from my chest entirely, was anything close.
“Tuck?” Dunn continued quickly. “I don’t just mean a boyfriend, okay?” He snorted at the very idea. “I mean the boyfriend. The one. The… the guy you’re meant to be with. ’Cause nobody knows you better than me, right? Nobody, not even you yourself! So I figured, who better to make sure you get exactly the guy you deserve than the guy who loves you best?”
I waited for my heart to squeeze excitedly, but it didn’t. Maybe I’d finally been cured.
Yay?
The waitress came with our drinks, and I belted Dunn’s whiskey back before he could reach for it, only shuddering slightly at the burn.
“Another, sir?”
“Better make it two,” I said with a polite smile.
When she left, I turned that same smile on Dunn. “So you planned this whole evening, this reservation and everything, just to tell me that you wanted to find me a boyfriend?”
Dunn grinned broadly. “Yep. Cool, right? ’Cause you’re important to me, and I know it’s not gonna be easy to convince you to let me set you up.” He laid his hand over mine on the tabletop, casually affectionate as ever. “I know you hate Ms. Vienna interfering. But it wouldn’t be like that with you and me, ’cause I know you. Like I said.”
I nodded slowly and drew my hand away. “And all that nonsense back in my office, when Vienna was giving you the third degree and you were going on about changing your life, and redefining yourself, and whatnot?”