work.”
“Well good,” I said flatly.
“So how do you two know each other?” Isaac asked.
I wanted to say, “She stole my prom date and ruined my last year of high school.” But instead I said, “She’s a friend of a friend,” which was true. I wanted to add, “And she’s engaged, so don’t fall for her like pretty much every male on the planet does,” but, unfortunately, I just couldn’t find a way to work it into the conversation.
“I’m really glad she was here tonight.” Isaac glanced around the restaurant as if he were looking for Rona.
I nodded my head emotionlessly.
For the remainder of our date, Isaac seemed distracted. We exchanged small talk as he drove me back to my place, but that was about it. We didn’t talk and laugh like we had before. And as Isaac walked me to my condo, he didn’t offer me his arm like he had at the beginning of our date as we walked into the restaurant.
I didn’t know what had happened. Had he taken one look at Rona and wondered what he was doing with someone like me? Or worse, had Rona acted completely un-engaged and charmed Isaac, leaving him interested in her? Or had Rona told him I had some sort of communicable disease? Because I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Thanks for everything,” I said when we reached the top of the steps outside my condo. “It was all so thoughtful of you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Isaac said briskly. And with that he gave me a hug of the variety that little boys give to distant relatives they are meeting for the first time. “I’ll call you,” he said in a noncommittal tone.
“You still have my cell number right?” I asked.
“Yep,” Isaac answered. Then he practically ran into the night.
Well, I thought as I opened the door and stepped inside, looks like you got what you wanted after all, brain.
Chapter 5
S ingles ward, Sunday morning. I strutted through the front doors dressed in a grey wool pencil skirt and my cutest pink top—which a girl had eyed covetously and then nearly ripped out of my hand when I was at Cheap Chic’s annual blowout sale a week earlier. On my feet I wore a pair of open-toed heels and a killer pedicure.
I paid such attention to my appearance partly because I believe in donning my Sunday best and partly because I have read quite a few magazine articles that say one of the best places to meet a mate is in church. And since I had been reminded of how great it felt to go to dinner with a kind, attractive, intriguing guy, I was really hoping I would meet another one soon. One I could actually date.
I have a pretty good idea of how my mate-meeting in church will occur. I will walk into the chapel, and there will be a handsome guy leaning over in his seat reading his scriptures. Then, as I walk gracefully past the handsome guy, a gleam of light will shine in through the window and make my hair appear impossibly shiny and make my face look all dewy and glowing.
The handsome guy will look up from his reading and our eyes will meet. We will fall madly in love, and we’ll print the passage of scripture he was reading the moment we met on our wedding invitations. Yes, I’m quite certain that’s how it will go.
As I moved my pedicured feet into the church foyer, I noticed a group of females standing near one of the couches. I could hear them giggling and speaking in higher-than-usual voices. In my experience this can only mean one thing: a new guy.
Just as I had guessed, as I walked closer, I noticed a pair of suit-pant-clad legs extending from the couch. I turned my head away from the scene quickly as if to say I was much too grown-up to be hovering over a new guy. Especially one who was not leaning over in his seat reading his scriptures. It was then that I heard it.
“Annabelle?”
I turned around to see the suit-pant-clad legs walking toward me. And you’ll never guess whose legs they were—they were Isaac’s.
“Annabelle? What are you doing here?”
The girls in the
“Well good,” I said flatly.
“So how do you two know each other?” Isaac asked.
I wanted to say, “She stole my prom date and ruined my last year of high school.” But instead I said, “She’s a friend of a friend,” which was true. I wanted to add, “And she’s engaged, so don’t fall for her like pretty much every male on the planet does,” but, unfortunately, I just couldn’t find a way to work it into the conversation.
“I’m really glad she was here tonight.” Isaac glanced around the restaurant as if he were looking for Rona.
I nodded my head emotionlessly.
For the remainder of our date, Isaac seemed distracted. We exchanged small talk as he drove me back to my place, but that was about it. We didn’t talk and laugh like we had before. And as Isaac walked me to my condo, he didn’t offer me his arm like he had at the beginning of our date as we walked into the restaurant.
I didn’t know what had happened. Had he taken one look at Rona and wondered what he was doing with someone like me? Or worse, had Rona acted completely un-engaged and charmed Isaac, leaving him interested in her? Or had Rona told him I had some sort of communicable disease? Because I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Thanks for everything,” I said when we reached the top of the steps outside my condo. “It was all so thoughtful of you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Isaac said briskly. And with that he gave me a hug of the variety that little boys give to distant relatives they are meeting for the first time. “I’ll call you,” he said in a noncommittal tone.
“You still have my cell number right?” I asked.
“Yep,” Isaac answered. Then he practically ran into the night.
Well, I thought as I opened the door and stepped inside, looks like you got what you wanted after all, brain.
Chapter 5
S ingles ward, Sunday morning. I strutted through the front doors dressed in a grey wool pencil skirt and my cutest pink top—which a girl had eyed covetously and then nearly ripped out of my hand when I was at Cheap Chic’s annual blowout sale a week earlier. On my feet I wore a pair of open-toed heels and a killer pedicure.
I paid such attention to my appearance partly because I believe in donning my Sunday best and partly because I have read quite a few magazine articles that say one of the best places to meet a mate is in church. And since I had been reminded of how great it felt to go to dinner with a kind, attractive, intriguing guy, I was really hoping I would meet another one soon. One I could actually date.
I have a pretty good idea of how my mate-meeting in church will occur. I will walk into the chapel, and there will be a handsome guy leaning over in his seat reading his scriptures. Then, as I walk gracefully past the handsome guy, a gleam of light will shine in through the window and make my hair appear impossibly shiny and make my face look all dewy and glowing.
The handsome guy will look up from his reading and our eyes will meet. We will fall madly in love, and we’ll print the passage of scripture he was reading the moment we met on our wedding invitations. Yes, I’m quite certain that’s how it will go.
As I moved my pedicured feet into the church foyer, I noticed a group of females standing near one of the couches. I could hear them giggling and speaking in higher-than-usual voices. In my experience this can only mean one thing: a new guy.
Just as I had guessed, as I walked closer, I noticed a pair of suit-pant-clad legs extending from the couch. I turned my head away from the scene quickly as if to say I was much too grown-up to be hovering over a new guy. Especially one who was not leaning over in his seat reading his scriptures. It was then that I heard it.
“Annabelle?”
I turned around to see the suit-pant-clad legs walking toward me. And you’ll never guess whose legs they were—they were Isaac’s.
“Annabelle? What are you doing here?”
The girls in the
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