Frankie pulled out two pairs of running shoes, several pairs of Converse, three pairs of sturdy boots and two pairs of flats. Eva rejected them all. “Don’t you have anything with a heel?”
“My last pair of heels snapped when I got them caught in that grill on Fifth Avenue.”
“We’re the same size. I’ll lend you something.”
“I don’t want to wear heels. I love my flats. I like being able to walk.”
“Heels give you an excuse to hold his arm—” Eva caught her eye again “—which obviously you don’t want to do,” she said hastily, “so you might as well wear flats. Great idea.”
“None of this is a great idea. What are we going to talk about?”
“The same things you talk about when we’re all there.” Eva carried on sorting through Frankie’s clothes. “Plants, roof terraces, Claws, crazy cab drivers, the volume of construction in Manhattan—the choice of subject matter is endless. What is this?” She held up an old gray T-shirt with a hole in the shoulder and Frankie shrugged.
“I know it’s old but it doesn’t matter because I wear it to bed.”
“Not anymore you don’t.” Eva started a pile on the floor for disposal.
“I live on my own. Who cares what I wear to bed?”
“I care. I won’t be able to sleep upstairs, thinking of you down here wearing that.”
“I love you, but there are times when I think you’re very strange.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Eva added another T-shirt to the pile on the floor. “What if there’s a fire in the night? A hot fireman might come and rescue you and you’ll be wearing this ugly gray thing.”
“If there was a fire in the night I hope the fireman would be thinking about the two of us not burning to death, rather than judging my fashion choices.”
“This was a choice?” Eva tossed another T-shirt on the growing pile. “Your wardrobe is an abomination. It’s no wonder you don’t know what to wear to dinner with Matt. There’s nothing here.”
The reminder of dinner brought the gnawing feeling back to Frankie’s stomach. “I don’t know why he wants to do this.”
“Because he likes you,” Eva said patiently, “and he wants to spend time with you.”
“I should have kissed him. That would have ended it there and then.”
“If he asks you on a second date you can still try that.” Eva reached out and wound one of Frankie’s curls around her finger. “You have truly beautiful hair. I don’t suppose you’d let me—”
“No.”
“But you don’t know what I—”
“Still no.”
Eva sighed and let her hand drop. “How about just a tiny glimmer of lip gloss? Just to emphasize your mouth.”
“I don’t want to emphasize my mouth or any other part of myself. I’m having dinner and it ends there.” Because if it didn’t end there that would mean—
She swallowed and met Eva’s gaze.
“Stop it!” Eva stood up. “You need to stop dissecting everything and get ready. Go and have a shower and I’ll fetch the tunic.” She walked to the door and then paused, a wistful look on her face. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t believe the two of you are finally going on a date.”
“It’s not a date!”
“Of course it isn’t,” Eva soothed. “All I meant was, I hope you have an amazing time on your—er—dinner that’s not a date. Nondate. It’s a nondate.”
“So what’s happening?” Paige was eating a slice of toast with one hand and scrolling through her emails with the other. “Where are you going with your favorite tunic?”
“I’m lending it to Frankie. She has a date with Matt.” Eva danced around the room, humming to herself. “But don’t call it that or you’ll freak her out. They’re on a nondate, which is a whole new way of dating for people who are freaked out by dating. Which is basically Frankie.”