The door to my bedroom flung open around five pm, and Chelsea walked in laden with shopping bags. She raised them triumphantly in the air as though I was an ancient god and she had brought me some sort of tribute.

“Looky here,” she crowed. “It's the solution to all of your problems.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and bookmarked the page of the book I was reading, setting it down on the bedside table.

“What have you done?” I asked.

Chelsea rolled her eyes and walked over to my bed, dumping the bags at my feet. “What? Were you going to go out on your date wearing that?”

I looked down at the jeans and T-shirt I wore. Sure, they were a little old, given the fact that I had left them here after moving out years ago, but it wasn't the worst outfit ever. Thankfully, there were a few dresses in the pile of clothes we'd left behind. I was sure I'd find something.

“I saw a black A-line dress in the pile of spare clothes,” I said defensively.

“You mean the one I wore to that party at Jane Hausman's in high school?” She snorted. “Trust me, Megan, you don't want to wear that one. It's got bad juju.”

When Chelsea didn't elaborate, I decided to leave it at that. I didn't want to wear a dress that had bad juju. What if Joel ended up realizing he actually wasn't all that interested in me when I wasn't being all furtive and exciting?

“Okay, fine.” I poked one of the bags with my toe. “Why'd you get so many?”

“Because shopping is fun, and I was making decent money at my old job,” she replied. “Plus, whatever you don't like, I get to keep!”

I was glad to see that her spirit was at least getting back to normal. There was nothing worse than Chelsea in a bad mood, and I had worried that this whole ‘going to jail’ thing was going to sour her mood forever.

“What will it be?” Chelsea began rifling through the bags, taking me on a tour of the clothes she'd bought.

“The floral wrap dress? The red halter? The leopard-print corset top and pencil skirt?”

I rolled my eyes. “You didn't shop with my tastes in mind at all, did you?”

“Yes I did...” I gave her a challenging look and she snickered. “Okay, fine. I was hoping you wouldn't go for the last two, but the floral wrap dress would be perfect on you.”

I took another look at the dress she was holding up, angling my head to the side. It looked like it would be quite flattering on my figure, and it wasn't too short, either. I still wasn't completely on board with putting on a dress in this weather, but at least I was getting picked up and dropped off at the door.

“Fine,” I said. “Wrap dress it is.” I reached for the dress, but Chelsea pulled it back and clicked her tongue scornfully.

“We've got miles to go before we can even think about getting you dressed,” she said.

I groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

By the time seven pm rolled around, I'd been primped and pampered within an inch of my life. Chelsea called it primping and pampering, anyway. To me, it felt more like an endless string of uncomfortable tasks, but the results were nothing short of amazing.

My blue eyes looked sharp, surrounded by gray, smoky eyeliner. Chelsea had curled my hair into glossy waves that tumbled over my shoulder in a satisfying way every time I turned my head. The dress was a little on the snug side for my tastes, but according to my sister, it was perfect for the date. She had also made me wear a pair of cream, sling-back heels, which made my legs look about eight feet long.

“You look incredible,” my mother exclaimed when I came downstairs to show her. “Oh, it's like your prom night all over again.”

I had the sudden urge to vomit, and I wasn't sure whether it was my mother's fussing or my nerves that were making me nauseous.

“He'll be here any second,” Chelsea said, checking her phone. “Is there anything else you need to do before he’s standing on our doorstep?”

I frowned. “The only thing I want to do now is go out with the nice doctor who is on his way to pick me up. I swear to God if you come at me with those tweezers again, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Chelsea grinned approvingly, even as my mother let out a sigh. Dad was still sitting in the corner of the living room, reading the newspaper and not paying attention to any of us. Nevertheless, he called out, “You look great, honey. Knock 'em dead.”

I appreciated the sentiment, even if I knew there was no way he could see me without taking his eyes off the paper.

We all froze at the sound of footsteps on the front porch. I shot my mother and Chelsea a warning glare, hoping it encapsulated everything I needed to communicate to them right now.

Don't be weird. Don't embarrass me. For the love of God, don't be yourselves.

Joel knocked on the door, and I floated over and opened it.

His eyes dropped immediately from my face to the dress that clung tightly to my curves. When he looked back up, there was definite lust in his eyes. My cheeks burned.

“You look gorgeous,” Joel said. “Wow.”

I couldn't remember a guy ever saying “wow” about my appearance before. It made my heart sing.

“You look pretty dapper, yourself,” I said, staring appreciatively at the dark suit that fit him like a glove. I remembered how good his muscles had felt under my touch, and it was nearly as good as they looked filling out his suit.

Joel's emerald eyes fixed on mine and he extended his hand. “Shall we?” Behind him, a black SUV was parked in the driveway.

“You don't want to come in and hang out for a bit?” asked Chelsea, butting next to me in the doorway.

I groaned.

Mom came forward next. “So lovely to see you again, Joel. Have you been enjoying your time in Seattle? It's beautiful here, isn't it? I've always thought so.”

“I'm afraid that Megan and I have dinner reservations we have to get to,” said Joel with a twinkle in his eye. “Otherwise I would love to come in and, uh, hang out.”

I laughed, delighted that he seemed to know exactly how to handle my family after barely spending any time with them.

“Be safe!” called my mom as Joel led me to the passenger side of the SUV.

“Make good choices!” called my sister.

My father stayed out of it, which was frankly the safest place for him to be.

I got into the cozy interior the car and watched Joel slide in effortlessly to the driver's seat.

“This car is so nice for a rental!” I commented.

He grinned. “I’ve got pretty much the same car back home.”

Ah, yes. Home. How could I forget the most crucial thing there was to know about Joel when it came to the possibility of a relationship? He lived on the other side of the country, sometimes in another country entirely. I had a job on the West Coast, one that I would be hard-pressed to give up, and he too had a job he loved, on the East Coast.

Joel pulled out of the driveway and started toward downtown Seattle, and I watched the rain streak down the windows as we drove. My deliriously happy mood had wound down to a more muted happy, one tempered by the knowledge that this could be my last ever night with Joel. I was heading home tomorrow, and he would have to head back to his clinic soon. After all, his waiting list was ten miles long. It must have been costing him dearly to be here. It meant the world to me that he was, but I needed to keep that in mind for the evening. I needed to remember that all of this was temporary.