Not wanting this dessert to go to waste, I grab his plate and dive in. The server comes back around, and I ask for the rest to be put in a box, then I pay the check. Instead of waiting for my ride outside, I go to the bar and order a Jack and Coke.

Harper: Waiting for an update!

I read my screen and blow out a breath.

Hadleigh: He got an emergency call and had to go to the hospital. I’m at the bar drinking away my sorrows.

Harper: Because he left??

Hadleigh: No! Because I’m stupid.

Harper: LOL, you are not. Stay and enjoy a few drinks. You deserve it.

Yes, I do.

Hadleigh: Don’t worry, I am. He left me his card. I plan to drink until someone has to carry me over their shoulders and haul my ass home.

Harper: Umm…should I be worried about you? I can come get you if you want.

Hadleigh: Nah.

Harper: Okay, well let me know if you change your mind. How was the dinner going before he left?

Hadleigh: Honestly, it was fine. We talked and ate, like any other normal date, but I found out he’s gay.

Harper: What? I thought you said this was a date?

Hadleigh: Well, he never asked me out like on a date-date. He mentioned wanting to see The Nutcracker and said he didn’t wanna go alone. Then once I agreed, he suggested dinner and drinks afterward. So yeah, it sounded like one in theory, but he just wanted some company.

Harper: Was it awkward after he told you?

Hadleigh: No, I was relieved, and we started having more fun. One less straight man to disappoint!

Harper: Well, the night isn’t completely wasted. Who knows, maybe you can find someone else to warm your bed tonight?

Hadleigh: OMG, that’s the last thing I need.

Harper: Hah! Or the ONLY thing you need.

Hadleigh: My head is such a mess right now. I just want to talk to Knox.

Harper: Well, you should enjoy all the free drinks you can and know that it will all work out the way it should. I have a feeling your night could still end on a happy note.

I snort.

Hadleigh: Doubtful, but thanks for the confidence boost.

I order a shot of tequila and am well on my way to tipsyville. Since it’s Saturday evening, Ubers are taking longer than usual. Traffic’s a bitch on a regular night, but on the weekend, it’s impossible to get around downtown without being in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Ten minutes later, the bartender brings me a margarita. Just as I’m about to tell him I didn’t order that, he nods his head to my right.

“From the gentleman at the end,” he says, then walks away.