Page 88 of The Love Playbook

With a sigh, I tell him I have to go, then hang up and stare down at my phone with a dopey grin on my face before forcing myself to my feet.

With no time to change, I swipe my keys off my desk and slide on my shoes. If Chris wants to meet up with me after dinner, I can change out of his hoodie then. No sense in inflating his ego any more than it already is.

Five minutes later, I find an empty spot outside Chachi’s, a little Mexican joint just off campus. Dad offered to take me somewhere more upscale for dinner, but I opted for something close by in case I need to flee back to the dorms unexpectedly. Plus, there’s something to be said for eating comfort food in a moment of crisis, and loading myself full of chips and salsa, alongside Chachi’s chicken and cheese enchiladas is a little like curling up into your favorite chair, beneath a soft blanket while its snows outside, only to take a long nap. The only thing I’ll be missing is a margarita. Guess I’ll just need to have one of those with the girls when I get back to the dorms.

I turn the ignition off, willing myself to go inside, but I find it hard to make my feet move. Not only was my father surprised at my request to have dinner, he was ecstatic. I wonder how he’ll feel once I tell him what I need?

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the anxiety gnawing on the edges of my thoughts. It already sunk its teeth into my chest. I can’t have it in my head twenty-four seven too or I’ll go insane.

With a deep breath, I pull my proverbial big-girl pants on and open my door, making my way inside, the scent of Mexican food instantly greeting me like a hug.

I spot Dad immediately; he’s sitting in a booth in the back, a basket of chips and a bowl of queso in front of him, along with a margarita I would kill to have.

His head lifts and he spots me, waving me over.

I slide into the booth, taking in his broad smile, and a seed of guilt sprouts inside my chest at the knowledge I have an ulterior motive. I wonder how long an acceptable amount of time is to wait before bringing up Mom and the real reason I’m here?

“I went ahead and ordered queso,” he says, stirring the ice in his drink. “I know how much you love it.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smile, shrugging off my coat and giving the waiter my drink order before I turn back and face him.

Dad grabs a chip and dips it in cheese. “So, how’s school? Classes okay?”

“Sure, yeah. They’re great.”

“You know, I have to admit, I was surprised when you called. After . . .” He scratches his head, flashing me a sheepish grin. “Well, after your birthday, I guess I just figured I wouldn’t hear from you for a while.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think so, either.”

“So, what changed?” Dad takes a long sip of his margarita and my mouth waters. “Is it too much to hope this means you’ve come around, and that maybe you’re rethinking your stance on the wedding?”

“Not exactly.”

Dad deflates, his expression morphing from hopeful to disappointed in an instant. “Right.”

I glance away from him, chewing my lower lip. Despite how it might seem, I don’t want to disappoint him. I get zero pleasure from letting him down.

“But there is a reason I wanted to meet up with you,” I say, returning my gaze to him. “The thing is, Mom?”

“Hey, look who it is!” My father raises an arm in the air, waving toward the front of the restaurant, his eyes bright as he shouts, “Chris!”

A creeping sensation prickles down my spine as I turn in the booth, facing the front of the restaurant where I spot Chris with the guys.

Of all the restaurants near campus, what are the odds they chose this one?

His gaze lifts when my dad calls his name for a second time, his eyes brightening as they shift from my father to me.

I make a slashing motion with my neck, and a grin splits his lips as he starts this way.

Shit.

Whirling back around, I shield my face with a hand as if to hide even though Chris has already seen me. “You really don’t need to call him over here. I was hoping for a nice dinner just the two?”

“Hey, Garry, Charlotte.” The deep voice ripples beneath the surface of my skin as I drop my hand and blink up at the sexy specimen towering over me from beside the booth. A cheeky smile splits his lips as he says, “What a lovely surprise.”

“Are you getting dinner? You should join us. We’d love to have you.” My father beams up at him like he’s the Prodigal Son.

“Dad, I’m sure Chris would much rather eat with his teammates,” I say, flashing him a meaningful look at the same time Chris’s gaze homes in on the hoodie I’m wearing?hishoodie.