Chapter Eighteen
“Where are we going?” Zenny asks. “And why is there sixty dollars tucked into your console?”
“You’ll see. And there’s sixty dollars because it’s a fancy date, Zenny-bug.” I’m kidding, obviously, because I could easily spend tens of thousands of dollars on a single night with her—and I considered it, I really did. I thought about whisking her away to St. Bart’s or Paris or the Seychelles, but somehow I knew that wouldn’t impress her.
And I do want to impress her. Or more accurately, I want her to have fun, I want her to be happy, I want her to feel what it’s like not to have the world on her shoulders. I want to see her smile and laugh. I want tonight to belong to her, not to her nursing degree, not to her shelter, not to her family’s subverted expectations. Noth
