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Two hours later, once she was on her own, Spencer couldn’t decidewhether to go with a tablecloth on her small dining room table or not. Sherarely ate there herself, preferring either the counter or the couch for meals,but for the two of them? They should definitely eat at the table.

She’d hit the grocery store earlier with the list Kendra hadprovided her, and with a quick call to her mom for her vinaigrette saladdressing recipe, she felt like she was making real progress. She placed herhands on her head and made the decision. Tablecloth was the way to go!

She dashed back to the kitchen. The hens were in the oven. She’dpeeled the potatoes, and now she just needed something to wear. Not too dressy,but not too casual. Tonight was important. Tonight was date three, and who knewwhat date three would bring? She didn’t want to be presumptuous, but shecouldn’t help but wonder and hope. It was still summer, so she settled on whitecapris and a maroon tunic. Should be fine.

“Oh, you’re getting some tonight,” Kendra said, after returning tothe apartment to check in on Spencer’s progress. “Everyone knows what date threemeans.”

“It doesn’t have to mean sex,” Spencer scoffed. “That’s a myth andway too assumptive for my taste.”

“It doesn’t have to mean sex, but it does and every adult isaware. Plus, it’s not like you’re off to a night at the movies. She’s coming toyour apartment, Spence.”

“I get it.”

“But if you want to help matters along, change that top.”

She glanced down at the tunic, the one she had designed and soldthousands of. “Why? This is one of my best sellers.” She turned to the side.“Are you missing the detail over here? Look at this stitching. It’s badass.”

“Who cares about stitching on a date?” Kendra pointed at Spencer’schest. “No cleavage at all. What are you trying to do? Teach a yoga class orentice a female to want you so badly she can barely concentrate on dinner?You’ve got choices to make.”

She paused. “That second part sounds nice.” Kendra stalked toSpencer’s bedroom, and Spencer followed.

“This one,” Kendra said, selecting a blue tight-fitting top. “Ithugs and it dips in the front. You need the dip.”

“Really?”

Kendra squinted in disbelief. “You’re better at this than youseem, right? I mean, you’ve never had trouble getting women that I’ve noticed.How do you not know this stuff?”

“The question is, how doyouknow this stuff?” Spencer asked, as she shrugged out of her tunic and replacedit with Kendra’s suggestion. “You’restraight.How would you know what a woman wants in another woman?”

She shrugged. “I watch television. Plus, I’ve been to enough ofthe gay clubs with you to see who gets the most action, and it’s not the girlin the flowy shirt. You feel me?”

“Yeah.”

“I think your hens are burning.”

“What?” Spencer raced to the kitchen and threw open the oven door.“They look okay.” She turned to Kendra with her please-help-me face. “Do they lookokay to you?”

“Ladle some more butter over the top and turn the oven down. Igotta head out. Got plans of my own on this fine evening.”

“Please tell me it’s not with that loser Tucker.”

“I can’t. Bye, Spence. Date three! You got this.”

“I don’t. I feel weird and vulnerable and I think I need you tostay and help me with the prep.”

“Nah. You just need to enjoy this little ride you’re on, because Iam. Can’t say I’ve seen you this rattled before.” She took out her phone andsnapped a photo of Spencer. “Now I can always remember it. Ta ta.”

“But how do I keep the hens from drying out?” Spencer called tothe closing door. In defeat, she raced back to the kitchen and read over theinstructions Kendra had left, reiterating them to herself one more time. She surveyedthe living room, now clear of shipping supplies, fabric, and mannequins. Butthe throw pillows on the couch looked lopsided. She fluffed them, wondering whothe hell she was to care so much about couch pillows impressing a date. Sheshuffled back to the kitchen to make sure the potatoes were soft enough, onlyto run into a sticky note on her refrigerator that said, “Light candles beforeshe arrives.” She snatched the note, crumpled it, and shoved it into her backpocket. But light the damn candles, she did. She really did owe Kendra. She puton some mellow background music and waited. And waited some more. Her handstingled in anticipation. Hadley was due in ten minutes. The time ticked by everso slowly until, at last, a knock at the door.

“Hey,” Spencer said, stepping aside so that Hadley could enter.“You look amazing.”

“So do you. What smells so fantastic?” Hadley asked, turning in acircle. “Wow. What is that?”

“Cornish game hens. Is that okay? I also have red-skinned potatoesand a green salad with homemade dressing.”

Hadley truly did look impressed, which was a victory for Spencer.“I had no idea you were a chef as well as a soon-to-be-famous designer.”

Spencer’s cheeks heated, which prompted her to turn away, leadingthem into the kitchen. “I’m not a chef. I had to have help from a friend. I diddo the cooking, but she offered some instruction.”