The coffee shop is almost empty. I guess everyone in town is busy drinking at the bars or one of the breweries that seem to be everywhere.

It's just me and Nathan, a guy working on his laptop with headphones on, and a couple of women in their 60's that I'm pretty sure are on a first date themselves.

Nathan asks me how I like my coffee and I admit I don't. His handsome face falls in obvious confusion, or maybe disappointment, but he recovers fast.

"Sorry," I can't help but laugh at myself, "I guess going for coffee does seem silly if I don't drink it."

"I'm just going to interpret it to mean you weren't ready for our date to end." He gives me a wink and that mischievous grin that makes my insides go all fluttery as he heads to the counter armed with my order for tea with milk while I choose a nice corner for us that offers 2 leather chairs in mismatched colors and a small table that's been painted a bright yellow over a dark brown with little cut outs of butterflies decoupaged on it.

The place is eclectic, that's for sure. A ceiling height bookcase creates a room divide behind my chair. A small sign printed in a swoopy font is displayed on the shelf that's just about eye-level with me while I'm standing in front of the case, checking out the collection. It says "Need a Book, Take a Book, Have a Book, Leave a Book."

There's a surprising amount of high fantasy and science fiction books on the shelves, a decent section of cook books, and some text books. Not nearly as many romance novels as I would expect, but maybe that's just me? Romance makes up more than half my own book store but I guess it's not the sort of thing the coffee shop patrons are into.

"Oh, thank you." Nathan coming back with our drinks distracts me from my book snooping. I put my hand out to take my steaming mug of hot tea but he sets the tray down on the little table.

"It's still steeping," he says with a wave of his hand indicating I should continue with what I was doing. "Go ahead and pick out a good book," he tells me as he takes a seat behind me, "you might need it if I get too boring."

The way he says it doesn't sound sarcastic at all. He's genuinely making a joke, poking a little fun at himself, not criticizing my interest in the books at all. It feels-- comfortable. Like he already knows something about me and accepts it.

Those butterflies stir up in my gut again, along with a warmth that starts in my chest and blossoms from mere gratitude to something else.

This man is more than I expected. He makes me feel...I feel my face pinch in a combination of self-consciousness and concern while I pretend to still be studying the broken and tattered spines of the paperbacks with my back to Nathan...that's just it, I conclude. He makes me feel.

"I doubt you get boring," I assure him as I turn around, plastering a not-at-all fake smile on my face as I take my seat and fix my tea up like I like it.

Nathan peers at me over the edge of his coffee cup while he finishes taking a sip.

"I hope not."

His voice is a somber tone that I've already come to think of as uncharacteristic for him as he sets his mug down on the table between us.

"What on earth makes a woman like Mrs. Tiffany Henries-Rowe hire a professional marriage broker to find her a husband?"

And there it is.

The question hangs pendulous and obvious in the air between us just as the women sharing a slice of cheesecake at the table across the room break into laughter, sounding suddenly as comfortable with each other as Nathan and I seem to suddenly not be.

I stir the milk into my tea with the dainty little silver spoon that was set on the edge of my saucer and try to think what the right answer is.

Raven told me it was my story to tell, that she hadn't shared all the details of my situation with my future husband. At the time, I was relieved. I thought it was very professional, as well as considerate, of her to leave it up to me.

Now I wish he already knew everything. I wish I'd told Nathan's daughters-- or at least Helen-- so I'd know that this match was made under full disclosure. That way I could be having this conversation with a man who'd already had a chance to go through my baggage and decide if it was something he was willing to have stashed in his closet.

Metaphorically speaking.

"Um," I cough lightly like maybe the tea went down the wrong pipe or was still hotter than I'd expected but the truth is that I'm painfully aware that I'm taking too long to answer him but I'm still stalling for time.

"Well," I set my cup back down on the saucer and look up at Nathan with a firm resolve. I'm just going to say it. "My husband passed away," I hold my breath, pausing for the obligatory sentiment that always comes with the statement. Nathan's expression turns soft and he gives me an apologetic nod but he waits for me continue.

His silence is welcome. It makes me feel like he's interested in the part where I'm here with him, not holding me in a past that I've left behind me already.

I breathe again, feeling slightly lighter. "It's been six years now," I mention, feeling like I owe it to him to assure him that this arranged marriage idea isn't a rebound reflex or desperation to fill a suddenly empty space in my life.

Nathan nods again. He looks like he's about to say something but then he just gives me a helpless little shrug that tells me he's not sure what to say.

"I tried dating again," I say, "but it wasn't...what I was looking for." I choose my words carefully for finishing the thought, not sure how to phrase it right.

"What are you looking for?" Nathan asks softly.

I take the opportunity to think for a second by lifting my cup from the table and slowly enjoying a sip of tea that's been brought to the perfect temperature by the cool milk.

"I don't prefer living alone," I tell him, "I don't want to choke to death because there was no one to give me the Heimlich maneuver."

Nathan's smile returns to his face and we break into shared laughter not unlike the girls at the other table a few moments ago.

It feels good.

It feels really good to share an evening with someone. To share laughter with someone. That giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach ramps up again and I start thinking how good it would feel to share other things with someone.

Not "someone." Nathan.

Just like that, the giddiness turns sour and drops, leaving me dizzy and sightly nauseous. Like the roller coaster ride I've been enjoying has gone on too long.

His laughter dies off and he contemplates his coffee in silence while he mulls over the information I've just dumped on him.

If it changes his mind about marrying me, then it's best to get that over and done with right up front so neither of us waste any more of our time.

That's what I tell myself, but the few seconds that he's quiet drag on in what feels like an eternity while I find myself holding my breath again.

It's right now, right here, sitting with my knees crossed like a proper lady while I hold an over sized tea cup in my hand trying not to let it shake too much, that I realize how much I want this man to marry me.

I mean, if I'm going to marry a virtual stranger it might as well be one who's handsome and witty and makes me feel like...oh boy. I catch my lower lip between my teeth and chew worriedly. This isn't what I was looking for at all when I hired Raven to find me a husband.

All I wanted was something solid and dependable. A man to keep company with and grow old with. Something sensible.

Not this.

I recognize this feeling.

This feels suspiciously like falling in love.