<h4>Chapter 159: Surprise Date</h4>


    Sara


    The kitchen is steamy from me and Marishka, who I now call Mama, cooking all day long. I stand over the big steel pot with a slotted spoon in one hand and my phone in the other, keeping tabs on the time.


    For tonight’s dinner, I invited Josh and Hailey because this will be the first time I will see them together after they started dating. Reba is invited by default, along with one of Matthew’s friends, who is, at the moment, the most eligible bachelor. Reba has no idea that I am conspiring to match her with him.


    I text Hailey: Bring more ice.


    Three dots flicker, then disappear. Nothing. I take this as consent.


    The back door creaks open just as I’m tasting the sauce for salt, and Mama pokes her head in, her cheeks flushed and hair tied up with a red bandana.


    "They’re setting up outside," she says, wiping her hands on a towel. "I told Matthew not to let Josh near the grill. Last time he tried, we nearly had a fireworks disy."


    I chuckle, giving the sauce another stir. "Good. I want everyone fed, not singed."


    Mama eyes the simmering pot with approval then leans in closer. "So, this mystery bachelor. You think Reba’s going to bite?"


    I grin. "She better. He’s smart, sessful, and not allergic tomitment."


    Just then, my phone buzzes on the counter. Hailey: Got the ice."


    I text back: Door’s open. Come straight through.


    Secondster, Reba and Hailey tumble through the screen door in a rush ofughter that’s too loud for whatever story they’re telling. I catch only the tail end:


    "...and she’s just shaving his chest right there on a towel, like it’spletely normal!" Hailey says, shaking her head in disbelief as she dumps a bag of ice into the sink.


    Reba cackles, leaning heavily on the counter, her face flushed from the cold or the story or both. "It was waxing, not shaving. There’s a difference. And he asked for it. Very politely, actually."


    Mama raises an eyebrow, bemused. "Who is waxing what now?"


    "Who really knows," I say. "Reba and Hailey has gotten close ever since she visited her and Josh in New York. Reba is probably corrupting Hailey now."


    Mamaughs. "I will go check on Rhea," she says and leaves.


    Hailey slides around me with the new ice, her eyes catching mine for a moment. "Where’s Josh?" she asks.


    "Outside. Probably arguing with Matthew about something," I say.


    Hailey rolls her eyes. "As long as it’s not politics or me dating Josh and Matthew not liking it, we will survive this dinner." She dumps the rest of the ice into the cooler and rinses her hands in the sink.


    "Matthew is fine with you dating Josh. He just always find something to argue about with him," I say, rolling my eyes.


    Reba leans in toward the pot, sniffing exaggeratedly. "Whatever this is smells like a hug from the inside. Please tell me we’re eating soon. I skipped lunch for this."


    I smirk. "You’ll eat when everyone’s here and seated like a civilized person. Try to be patient."


    She snorts. "You invited me. That’s on you."


    I arch a brow. "Technically, you were invited by default. Hailey was the real MVP with the ice."


    Reba gasps in mock offense. "Excuse me?"


    Hailey tosses a dish towel at her. "She’s setting you up with someone. That makes you a guest and a target."


    Reba freezes. Her head turns slowly toward me. "Sara," she says in that dangerous, too-calm voice, "what did you do?"


    I y innocent, twirling the spoon in the pot like it’s a wand. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."


    Hailey grins. "Matthew’s friend is cute. And normal. Well, normal enough."


    Reba groans and lets her head fall onto the counter with a dramatic thump. "Tell me it’s not another tech bro who thinks podcasts count as therapy."


    "Definitely not," I say sweetly. "He’s a pediatrician."


    Reba lifts her head just enough to squint at me. "...Okay, that’s annoying. That’s actually a good one."


    I give her a smug smile. "You’re wee."


    Just then, we hear a yell and a loud ng from the backyard.


    "JOSH!" Matthew’s voice booms through the open window.


    Reba sighs, grabs a wooden spoon, and points it like a sword. "If he broke your grill, I’m making him do the dishes for a month."


    I can’t helpughing as I lift the lid from the pot, steam rising in fragrant waves.


    Let the evening begin.


    Hailey heads for the door with mock determination, twirling the spoon like a baton. "Wish me luck," she says over her shoulder. "If there’s a grease fire, I’ll be the one dragging Josh out by his ears."


    Once the door swings shut behind her, Reba and I exchange a look. "So, who is this man you are setting me up with?" she asks.


    I try to keep my face neutral, but my lips tug upward all on their own. "His name’s Kevin," I say,dling sauce into a small bowl for taste testing. "He’s a pediatrician. Went to med school with Matthew. Comes from a good family, volunteers at animal shelters, probably reads actual books instead of self-help threads on Reddit."


    Reba narrows her eyes. "Okay, stop. You’re selling him too hard. That’s suspicious."


    I shrug, casual. "I just thought you’d appreciate a guy who doesn’t ask what your Enneagram number is on the first date."


    "That does sound appealing..." she admits reluctantly, plucking a stray basil leaf from the cutting board and chewing on it thoughtfully. "So what’s the catch?"


    "No catch," I say, watching her too closely now. "He’s nice. Handsome. Single."


    Her brows shoot up. "Why is he single, then? That’s always the question."


    I arch an eyebrow. "Because his ex moved to Paris and became a perfume chemist. He was very supportive, apparently, but long-distance wasn’t his thing."


    Reba blinks. "Wait, that’s oddly... healthy."


    I grin. "I know. He’s like a unicorn. A real one, not the weird dating app kind."


    She groans and leans her forehead against the cab. "I swear, if he smells like sandalwood and talks about mindfulness, I’m going to scream."


    "He smells like freshundry," I say. "And he will bring wine."


    Reba lifts her head slowly. "Red or white?"


    "Red," I say smugly. "Italian. Not screw cap."


    She mutters something under her breath and tosses a towel onto the counter. "You witch."


    "I prefer hostess with incredible matchmaking instincts."


    Just then, the front door creaks open, followed by the sound of voices and warmughter.


    Reba nces toward the sound, then back at me. Her expression is somewhere between resignation and curiosity. "If this goes badly, you owe me a chocteva cake."


    I hold up the sauce spoon like a solemn oath. "Deal."


    She squares her shoulders and heads for the dining room, muttering, "Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird," under her breath.


    I follow her with a secret smile, the scent of dinner filling the air and the buzz of new possibilities crackling just behind it.


    Let the introductions begin.


    The living room is already buzzing when we step in. Rhea is curled up on the sofa with a juice box, her curls bouncing as she waves at us. Josh is by the drinks table looking smug and suspiciously innocent. Hailey’s giving him the side-eye while Matthew’s poking at the grill tongs like he’s mentally writing a list of safety vitions.


    Then I see Kevin.


    Tall, clean-cut, dressed in a soft gray button-down and jeans, bottle of wine in one hand and a shy but warm smile on his face. He’s chatting politely with Mama—who, bless her, already has that look of approval she usually reserves for people who eat seconds and offer to do dishes.


    Kevin looks up as we approach, and for a split second, he freezes. Then he smiles again—this time wider, directed squarely at Reba.


    "Hi," he says. "You must be Reba."


    Reba nces at me for half a second like she’s going to kill meter, then turns back to him and extends her hand. "I am. And you must be Kevin, the unicorn."


    Kevin blinks. "The... what?"


    I backpedal quickly. "Inside joke. Don’t worry about it. Wee! You brought wine—you may now stay."


    Kevinughs. "Italian red, as requested."


    Reba eyes the bottle. "That is disturbingly specific. You’re either really good at following instructions... or you’ve been prepped."


    Kevin nces at me. "Guilty. But I was promised food in exchange for mild social danger."


    "Then you’vee to the right ce," she says, and I swear I catch a hint of a smile.


    Matthew ps his hands from the patio. "Food’s ready!"


    As everyone heads outside, Reba slows beside me just long enough to murmur, "He better not be perfect."


    I grin. "I make no promises."


    Outside, fairy lights glow overhead, the table is set, and the smell of grilled everything fills the air. I watch as Kevin pulls out a chair for Reba. She sits, and her thanks is apanied by something rare—an unguarded, maybe-this-won’t-suck smile.


    I look out at the table—at Haileyughing at something Josh said, at Matthew finally rxing, at Rhea stealing a roll while no one’s looking—and feel a quiet joy settle in my chest.


    Sometimes, the right mix of food, family, and just a little harmless meddling is enough to shift the whole world an inch closer to good.


    Let dinner begin.