Fourteen: Table For Two.

"Right this way." A Latina waitress who couldn't have been more than five feet tall led Spencer and Colin around a grove of palm trees into a private Mediterranean garden at the back of the Mia Vista, one of Longboat Key's most sought-after dinner spots. Gorgeous purple, blue, and yellow flowers curled around white trellises and a wooden pergola. A beehive-shaped fireplace blazed in the corner, throwing off just the right amount of heat to cut the slight chill in the air, and a jazz band played softly in the corner. They stopped in front of a corner table with a white tablecloth, a glowing white candle, and a glass of champagne at each of their seats—and, of course, a chilled AminoSpa for Colin. In all of Spencer's fantasies, she'd never thought up a first-date spot dreamier than this.

She settled into her chair, smoothing the brand-new dress she'd bought that afternoon over her lap. Colin sat down opposite her, looking extra-tan in his white Lacoste polo. "This is just so perfect," Spencer said.

"We couldn't have picked a better place," Colin said at the exact same time. They both stopped and laughed.

The waitress returned with their drinks and some menus. Colin sipped his AminoSpa on ice, and then burst into laughter. "Remember how much you hated this on our first date?" He reached across the table and took Spencer's hand. She could feel herself blushing. So he had counted the tennis game as a date! This whole situation was so surreal. For once, it seemed, she had actually won.

Melissa hadn't been at the house when Spencer had come home from bungee jumping, nor had Spencer seen her in town. Spencer wasn't sure what she would have done if she had run into her. She knew she should feel triumphant for stealing Colin away, but part of her kind of felt…crappy. It was a lot like how she felt when she'd kissed Ian in her driveway—as psyched as she'd been to hook up with the hottest senior at Rosewood Day, she couldn't help but feel guilty, even though Melissa was always a royal bitch to her.

But that didn't change the way she felt for Colin, who was staring at her with longing, his eyes soft, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

He half-shrugged, caressing her palm. "Just that you are so gorgeous."

She felt a shiver run down the length of her spine.

"You're not so bad yourself," Spencer said, lowering her lashes.

The waitress reappeared and took their orders. When she was gone, Colin sighed. "It sucks you have to go home soon."

"I know." Spencer pouted. "But maybe I could come back and visit. How long will you be here?" Her mind churned, conjuring up images of snorkeling and sailing and lemonades on the beach after tennis practice.

"I'm going to be here until February. But the thing is, I'm going to be training a lot," Colin said, shifting in his seat. "I want to get into some slams this year, remember?"

"Oh, of course." Spencer sat up straighter. "I would never tear you away from your training. I'd hit balls around with you if you wanted, though you probably want stiffer competition."

"No, that would actually be awesome." Colin used his straw to crush a piece of ice at the bottom of his glass. "Who knows? If things go well, maybe you could come with me to some of my matches." He sat back in his chair crossed his arms over his chest. "We could go to Australia together. Roland Garros in France. We could hobnob in New York City at the US Open."

"I could sit in the special visitors' box and wave for the ESPN cameras," Spencer said excitedly.

"You'll look amazing in the stands," Colin whispered.

"You'll look amazing on the court," Spencer said.

They leaned forward and kissed lightly. Electricity crackled through Spencer's body.

She sat back. "And if, God forbid, you don't make it into a slam this year, you'll be coming back to Connecticut, right? I could always drive up to visit you. Rosewood's not that far."

A muscle in Colin's jaw twitched. "Yeah, I don't know about that."

"Why?"

He raised one shoulder. "My apartment's kind of…" He trailed off.

"Kind of what?" Embarrassing? Shabby? Or maybe he loved with a creepy uncle or way too many cats.

"It doesn't matter. Let's not worry about that right now." Colin cupped her chin in his hands. "Let's talk about you instead. When did you first realize you had a thing for me?"

"Probably when I discovered we were both organizing junkies," Spencer joked.

Colin wagged his finger at her. "You'd better stay out of my closet. I've got it set up just the way I want it."

Spencer pretended to pout. "But closets are my favorite thing to organize!"

When the entrees arrived, Colin launched into a story about a tennis match that had gone into seven break points that lasted until Spencer speared the last bit of crab onto her fork. She laughed and groaned at all the right places, then tried to tell a story about when a field hockey game had gone into sudden death overtime, but Colin was so enthusiastic that he kept speaking right over her. He must be nervous, she thought, smiling at him. It was so cute.

The waitress appeared. "Any dessert for the lovebirds?"

Spencer opened her mouth to ask for some coffee and a menu, but Colin jumped in.

"I'm afraid not," he said quickly, checking his phone. He shrugged at Spencer. "You know the drill. Gotta put in a good night's sleep."

Spencer struggled to smile. "Of course. But maybe just a quick—"

"We'll take the check," Colin interrupted.

The waitress glanced at Spencer, mouthed Sorry, and left, taking the dessert menus with her. Colin rolled up his napkin, tossed it on the table, and shot Spencer a winning grin. "I'm gonna run to the restroom."

"Okay," Spencer answered, trying to hide her disappointment. She checked her phone—she had one message from Emily, asking when she was getting back to Rosewood—and then examined her manicure, which was still flawless. She crossed and recrossed her legs and then drummed her fingers against the tablecloth.

The waitress dropped their check off, and Spencer left it where it was, crooked in the center of the table, slightly askew toward Colin's still-empty seat.

Colin was taking an awfully long time. There must have been a line, Spencer decided. She checked her phone again and read several bling posts on Go Fug Yourself. She touched up her lip gloss. The waitress returned and reached for the check. Spencer clapped her hand over the leather envelope. "Uh, we haven't paid yet," she said, cheeks flaming.

Fifteen minutes passed. The couple who had been sitting next to them walked out, hand in hand, and a new couple sat down. There was no sign of Colin. Spencer wondered if she'd misunderstood. Had Colin thought they were supposed to meet out front, near the bathrooms? Thinking that must be it, she gestured the waitress over and slipped her her credit card with as much confidence as she could muster. The waitress looked at her sympathetically, but Spencer laughed it off.

The foyer was empty. Spencer hesitated by the men's room door, her stomach beginning to knot. When an older man with silver hair emerged from behind the door, Spencer asked if anyone else was in there. "It's kind of urgent," she explained, her voice high and tight.

The man gave her a weird look. "Didn't see anyone else in there," he finally said.

Spencer bolted for the front door, the uneasy feeling in her now strong as a heartbeat.

Outside, she took a quick lap around the perimeter of the building. When she reached the parking lot, she stopped short. A man with Colin's same broad shoulders, dark hair, and tight butt was locked in an embrace with a woman in her thirties wearing a killer linen dress. Her sleek blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had her hand on an expensive stroller.

"Say hi to Daddy, Brady!" the woman exclaimed, her voice ringing out over the parking lot.

Spencer gasped audibly. Daddy?

The couple turned to face her. Colin's face registered a note of surprise and shock, but he recovered quickly, again grinning that ultra-white smile. "Spencer!" He waved. "Come here for a sec!"

Somehow, Spencer managed to move her feet, one in front of the other, toward Colin. She stared at him, then the blonde, then the child in stroller. Had she heard correctly? Was he seriously a…father?

When Spencer was only a few paces away, Colin smiled, his eyes darting nervously. "Yvette, this is Spencer. She's the girl I told you about, who I've been giving tennis lessons to."

"I'm Yvette DeSoto," the blond said, her voice warm like honey. She stuck out her left hand. It was weighted down with an enormous diamond sparkler and sapphire-studded wedding band. "I hope my husband hasn't been working you too hard."

The words rang in Spencer's head. She shook Yvette's hand quickly, the champagne in her stomach rising back up her throat. My husband. Colin had a wife. But if Yvette was his wife, what did that make Ramona? Or Melissa? Or her? Spencer looked down at the baby, who was kicking its little legs and gurgling. And Colin didn't just have a wife. He had a child.

For a sprite second, her gaze returned to Colin's face. She'd assumed he was just out of college, but in the harsh glare of the parking-lot lamp, Colin looked different somehow. Older. The lines around his eyes were deeper, and tiny silver hairs peeked out of the five o'clock stubble on his chin. It was like he was suddenly a completely different person.

After a long moment, Spencer found her voice. "Uh, well, it was really nice you, but I have to…" Her voice trailed off, and she turned around and fled, running past Range Rovers and BMWs. When she finally found her way to the empty sidewalk behind the club, breathless and overwhelmed, the faintest giggle echoed through the trees. She was too weary to even look around to see who it was. She deserved to be laughed at for this. She deserved to be laughed at for this. She hadn't won Colin at all. She hadn't won anything. Like usual, Spencer Hastings had ended up with nothing.