You’d think one of them would’ve taken the hint by now. But no. Every week, like clockwork, another dinner reservation would pop up on Jason’s phone, this date was courtesy of Dick. But all month he had different dates set up by all his siblings. Each swearing this one was different. “Just give them a chance,” they’d say. “Keep an open mind.”

Sure. Jason had kept an open mind when that influencer girl tried to live stream their date and tagged it #FutureWayneWife. He’d kept an open mind when a guy in a bespoke suit brought his mother along and she spent the whole meal asking about Jason’s income, criminal record, and whether his tragic past would “affect the grandchildren.”

He was done.

Tonight? He was checking a box. No tie. No effort. He’d show up, sit for fifteen minutes, sip something overpriced, and bounce. That was the plan.

The restaurant his siblings picked was all chrome and glass, waitlist only, Michelin-starred, definitely not his scene. He walked in, barely glanced at the host stand, and scanned for a solo diner near the window, the only detail he bothered to read in the reservation text.

There. Table by the window. Alone. Looked about the right age. Good enough. Jason strode over like he owned the place, slid into the seat across from them, and didn’t even pause before speaking.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. Had to stop some idiot from launching his ex’s car into the bay.” He flagged down the server, ordered a whiskey, and waved them off before the other person could speak.

Then, with all the charm of a man who’s been emotionally blackmailed into dozens of bad dates, he added, “Look, let’s keep this simple. I’m gonna drink this, then I’m gonna leave. You can tell your parents, your followers, your podcast, whatever, you do, that you met a real Wayne. But this?” He motioned between the two of them. “Not happening. And if this is another Dina situation, I’m walking out before the bread hits the table.”

He leaned back with a sigh as the server returned and set the drink in front of him. And then he actually looked at them.

Not just a glance. Looked. And his heart stopped.

You weren’t what he expected. There was something about you, something in the way your eyes narrowed, your lips parted in confusion, maybe even amusement. And you weren’t flustered. You weren’t offended. You looked like you could cut him in half with a single sentence and for some reason, that made his pulse skip.

That’s when it hit him. Wrong person. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone else sitting alone at another window table bored, dressed to impress, definitely Dina. His actual date.

Shit.

He turned back to you, throat dry for a completely different reason now. “…You’re not Dina.”