“Chloe, we can’t just invite strangers to dinner,” he whispered.

But then he looked at my empty table, my single glass of water, and the heavy winter coat draped over the back of my chair.

He looked back at my face, and for a moment, I saw a deep, familiar grief in his eyes that mirrored my own.

He cleared his throat.

“Actually,” Daniel said, his voice quiet and sincere. “If you don’t have plans, we would love for you to join us.”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again on the table, the screen lighting up.

I looked down at the glowing screen.

It was a text from James Hendricks: *Traffic is bad, and honestly, I don’t think we’re a match. Good luck.*

I slid the phone into my purse and looked up at Daniel.

“I would love to join you,” I said.

Chloe let out a small gasp of excitement and grabbed my hand.

Her fingers were sticky with sugar, but I did not care.

Daniel smiled, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

“Let me help you with your coat,” he said.