Becca
Somehow Blake convinced me to switch our coffee plan to a dinner plan. That was the first problem.
The second was that I had nothing to wear, and he knew I didn’t have work that day, so I couldn’t show up in scrubs and pretend I had no time to change clothes.
I looked at the pile on the yellow-striped high-backed chair in my bedroom and realized I could no longer see the stripes or any evidence of a chair under my wardrobe. That should have been a sign to me that I was in over my head. I never spent a half hour—okay, an hour—getting ready to go out with a guy. And this wasn’t even a date.
This was an apology meeting. That was it. Once Blake finished explaining why he’d felt the need to blow me off entirely during the most vulnerable time in my life, my curiosity would be satisfie
