“He’s nice. Really nice. And every time I look at him, my heart beats faster, and I want him to kiss me.” She grabbed one of Reggie’s fries and bit down hard. “I’m terrified I’m going to make a fool out of myself. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why do you have to do anything? Why can’t you enjoy the moment? You like a guy. So what? It happens. He’s probably used to women having a crush on him.”

“I don’t want to be a groupie. I want to be a real person.”

“You are a real person. Right now you’re a real person who’s not making much sense. Dena, what’s the actual problem?”

“I want him to like me!”

Reggie picked up her sandwich half and took a big bite. Dena had a feeling it was a lot more about buying time than because she was hungry.

Reggie swallowed. “You want a relationship.”

“Yes. No. I mean, I do, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, he’s him and I’m me.”

Reggie tapped Dena’s plate. “Eat, please. You have to be healthy.”

“Exactly. That’s one reason. I’m pregnant. Who wants that? Plus he’s so good-looking and he’s nice and famous and talented. Oh, and he’s a widower. He’s still in love with his late wife, so that sucks.”

She paused. “Not that I don’t totally respect his feelings, but they make him even more unavailable. I’m just this ordinary, not pretty, pregnant schoolteacher. He’d never fall for me.”

The tears returned, but as she was with her sister, she didn’t bother fighting them very much. Reggie never judged.

“Stop saying you’re not pretty,” her sister told her firmly. “You are, and if he doesn’t see that, he’s a jerk. As for the rest of it, so what? Famous people want to fall in love. They want connection. The being in love with his late wife is a complication, possibly the biggest one. I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Me, either. Plus he’s leaving. He’s only in town for the holidays.” She didn’t mention the trouble he was having writing a song. That seemed too personal to share.

“Do you want to sleep with him?”

Dena yelped, then spun to see if anyone was sitting close enough to overhear. “Don’t ask that.”

“Why not? It’s the obvious question. Do you?”

Dena thought about how she felt when Micah took her hand in his, even just to do the pressure point thing. She thought about his smile, his laugh, and how squishy she got inside when she was near him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I know that’s bad, but I do.”

“So, find out if he’s interested.”