We got out of the car, and Jane opened the front door before we knocked.

Jane beamed. “Hi, so nice to meet you!” She shook Emma’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too,” Emma said.

“Benny still at work?” I asked.

Jane put out a bottom lip. “Yeah, he thought he might be able to get away for lunch but he can’t. Sorry.”

I hadn’t really cared too much that Benny might not be here today. He wasn’t the point of this visit. But all that had changed in the last ten minutes. Now I wanted my friends to meet her so I had someone to talk to about her.

Jane led us through their living room and down a hall and stopped by a closed door. “Everything’s ready. You guys can go in when you want.”

“And what’s everything?” Emma asked, looking at me.

“I think I’m going to save it until you see it.” I put up a hand. “Now remember, no matter what’s behind that door, don’t fall in love with me. That’s not what we’re doing here.”

Emma laughed, and I felt relieved that I’d regained enough composure to be funny.

I leaned over and opened the door and she gasped. “Kittens?” She beamed.

“Yup.”

The five six-week-old kittens Jane was fostering came mewing up to us, tails in the air. We shuffled in and I shut the door behind us before any escaped.

Emma scooped one up. “Oh, Justin, look! It’s so cute!”

I grinned. “Do you want to sit? They climb all over you if you do. That’s why I said to wear pants.”

Emma set her purse down and sat cross-legged next to it, and I took a seat opposite her. The kittens began to scale us immediately. One clawed up Emma’s back and popped out over her shoulder under her hair while two more played in her lap.

Her whole face lit up.

I was glad we did this first. She was so busy looking at the kittens, it gave me the chance to look at her without her noticing I was staring—and I was staring. Tiny freckles on her cheeks. Bronze woven into her hair. Her hazel eyes were a kaleidoscope of green with flecks of gold. They were different in person.

Everything was different in person.

I think if I’d known she was coming, if she’d told me her plans to switch Hawaii out for Minnesota, none of this would feel so unbelievable. But then something told me this would feel unbelievable no matter what.

“Did her cat have babies?” she asked.

“No. She fosters for Bitty Kitty Brigade. I’ve done it a few times too. I like cats. We had one when we were in college, Cooter. Benny took him when he moved out a few years ago. He’s probably here somewhere.”

She talked to a kitten but was speaking to me. “We’re only twenty minutes in and this is already the best date I’ve ever been on. I don’t know how you’re going to top this, Justin.”

“I’ve got a lot of ideas.”

She glanced at me. “Oh yeah? Am I getting your top four?”

“You’re only giving me four dates?” I asked. “You’re here for six weeks. We could have more.”

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Please. Take advantage.” Please.

She gave me a wry smile that I hoped was flirting.

“Seriously,” I said. “I’d like to see you more than that. To show you Minnesota,” I added quickly, worrying I sounded too eager.

“Well, you did talk up a good game about this place. It would be a shame if I didn’t have a guide to show me the highlights.”

“Agree. One hundred percent. I consider it my duty, it’s purely obligatory, I won’t enjoy it at all.”

She laughed.

“So where are we going for lunch?” she asked, snuggling her baby.

“A breakfast place actually. Unless you prefer pizza.”

“I love breakfast food,” she said.

“It is far superior to any other kind,” I agreed.

“I do like pizza though,” she said.

“Do you eat the crust?” I asked, petting a passing kitten.

“I love the crust on pizza,” she said.

“I hate the crust.”

“Maddy hates the crust too and I get to eat hers,” she said. “It’s part of why we’re so compatible.”

“Brad likes them too. He eats all my crusts. You know, I bet if they did a study about relationships, romantic and platonic, the ones where two people have alternating crust preferences are the ones that work the best.”

“Imagine putting that on a dating app,” she said.

I made my voice serious. “Must be willing to eat my discarded pizza crusts, no weirdos.”

She burst into laughter. The relief I felt that this seemed to be going well was insurmountable.

“What food don’t you like?” I asked, still smiling.

“Carrots. You?”

“Pappardelle,” I said. “Can’t stand it.”

“That thin, flat pasta?”