Table for two

The Italian restaurant was thankfully closer to my house than the church, tucked between a consignment boutique and a record shop with a cracked Elvis poster in the window. When I arrived, Marcus was waiting just inside the entrance, leaning against the host stand like he’d never doubted I’d show.

“Glad you made it,” he said, straightening up. “I told them I’d wait to be seated.”

“Appreciate that.” I offered a half-smile as we followed the host to a table near the window.

Outside, a group of women in sundresses walked past, laughing and flipping their hair. I love sundresses—they're easy to maneuver for a quick sex session, simple and unassuming. My face neutral.

We sat, menus between us, the silence stretching a beat longer than it should have.

“So,” Marcus said, his voice wry. “Do you always go on dates arranged by your pastor?”

I snorted. “First time. You always go on dates set up by your brother?”

“Also a first. I think Dan owes both of us a drink.”

The server came by to take our orders. I suggested the rigatoni arrabbiata for Marcus, and he added a glass of red wine. I went for the mushroom and chicken gnocchi with a glass of rosé.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Dan mentioned you’re one of his smartest congregants. And that you don’t take crap from anyone.”

“That sounds like Dan,” I said, amused. “Did he also tell you that I have trust issues and a black belt in kick assery?”

Marcus grinned. “Not in those exact words.”

The food came quickly, hot and fragrant. We talked between bites—about music, travel, and how odd it felt to be set up by someone with a pulpit. I found myself laughing more than I expected. He didn’t press too hard, didn’t offer up his entire life story in one sitting. There was space to breathe, and I didn’t feel compelled to share mine either.

As we finished eating, the server came over and asked, “Would you like me to wrap that up for you?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

A few minutes later, the server returned. “Would you like to try our dessert special? We have chocolate and pistachio gelato today.”

Marcus shrugged. “I’ll have the pistachio.”

“Chocolate for me,” I said.

The server nodded and brought out the gelato a few minutes later.

Marcus offered me a bite. I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m allergic to nuts.”

He nodded, not offended. “Good call.”

Marcus lifted his glass in a toast. “To divine matchmaking.”

I clinked mine against his. “And strategic sundress placement.”

He chuckled, then tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

I smirked, sipping slowly. “Nothing. Just a warm day.”

He laughed again, the sound low and easy. “You’re full of surprises.”

After dessert, Marcus asked, “Want to take a walk around the park for a bit? It’s close by.”

I nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

We left together and walked through the park for about forty-five minutes, talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, the conversation began to falter, the awkward pauses stretching longer. I reached for an excuse. “I should probably get back to my dogs.”

He smiled, understanding. We headed back to our cars.

As I turned to leave, Marcus stepped closer and kissed me on the cheek. The kiss was unexpectedly slobbery, and I was extremely grossed out. I forced a smile.

“Thanks for today,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, already backing away.

When I got home, I reached out to Pastor Dan and Linda via email, thanking them for setting me up with Marcus but explaining it wouldn’t work out however I expressed my gratitude of them trying. On paper, Marcus was great, but in person, he wasn’t the right fit for me—though he would be for others. After sending the email, I washed my face multiple times and then took care of the dogs.