I like to think I’m brave. I make the first move, handcraft my own sex toys and prefer my lipsticks have names like Evil Persimmon.
This is a different kind of courage. It feels as if I’m diving into a lake with pockets full of stones, unsure how deep I’ll go or whether I’ll find my way back to the surface at all.
“When did you become such a romantic?” I mutter.
She pulls back. “Were you not here when I fucked my professor? It was the biggest scandal Russell U engineering has ever seen.”
I press a hand to my mouth in mock horror, and we both laugh.
“There’s one thing I know for sure,” Liv says, grabbing another ceramic cock from a box. “If you are going on a date, you guys need a babysitter.”
25
KAT
“You look incredible,” Daniel murmurs for the fifth time as he rounds the truck to help me out of the passenger side.
“Thanks.”
The cab is high enough that in four-inch heels, it’s not that hard a task.
The dress is another matter.
It’s short and red and since the moment he saw me in it, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me. I had to remind him twice to watch the road on our drive to the next town over.
He’s in a dark button-down shirt and slacks, his eyes warm and knowing, and I’m having a hard time looking anywhere else, too.
“I took my parents here once,” I confess as he holds the door of the expensive restaurant. “When my brother Clay was in town.”
Recognition clicks. “Clay. The guy from the phone.”
My lips twitch. “How happy are you that it wasn’t some ex-boyfriend?”
“At the time, I was more concerned he was a current boyfriend.”
The hostess shows us to our table, a romantic seat for two near the back.
“You bailed on our game because of that call,” I contend as I take my seat.
“It was self-preservation. Your ass was in my face. Wine?”
I grin. “Yes, please.”
He orders us a bottle of red.
We survey the menus. Everything looks amazing, and my stomach growls.
“Get anything you like.”
“Three lobsters.”
“If it would make you happy. I like giving you things you want.”
He sounds as if he means it, too.
I decide on salmon and he orders steak, and our conversation flows easily.
“I’ve submitted my personal statement,” I say when he asks about school. “Hopefully it’s enough to get my prof’s support.”
“What does your family think about grad school?”
The shift makes me itch for a mirror to check my lipstick again. “Clay thinks it’s great. I haven’t told my parents.”
Daniel studies me over the menu.
Our wine arrives and we place our food order.
Liv’s advice about letting him in drifts through my mind as the waitress departs again.
“We don’t talk much,” I say. “My parents own a construction company, handed down from my grandfather. My father doubled its size thanks to contracts up and down the East Coast. They’re big on achievement. Preferably the splashy, visible kind. But building things is simple. Emotions are harder.”
“What about your brother? Is he some high achieving type?”
“He was always into sports.”
“And now?”
My lips twitch. “Still plays sports. He’s in the NBA.”
“Must be hard having a sibling that’s so great.”
My body deflates a little. “Sometimes.”
“I meant for him.”
Daniel’s gaze warms.
Every part of it feels genuine. Like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with me.
The wine is full and smooth, and I savor another sip.
Around us, couples are huddled at romantic tables in close conversation lit by candles.
“This is nice.”
His eyes dance. “You tried to turn me down.”
“I don’t date, Daniel.”
“Me neither.”
“Because you were married. But me? I’ve hung out with guys, but I’ve never had anything serious.”
He shifts back in his seat and the waitress arrives with our plates.
Everything looks delicious, and I inhale in delight before I notice he hasn’t moved.
“You have nothing to be jealous of. No boy on campus comes close to doing what you do.”
He leans forward and his slow grin is hot as hell. “What do I do?”
“You make me feel like I have my shit figured out. Like I’m capable. Like I can be somebody.”
“You already are somebody.”
Fuck, that’s it. That’s how he makes me feel, every day.
My gaze drops to his hands like it has half a dozen times already tonight.
“You aren’t wearing your ring,” I say.
He stabs at his steak. “I’ve been trying something new.”
“You can talk about her,” I murmur as he chews and swallows.
His fork freezes halfway back to his plate. “We met in grad school. Fell in love. Still, we waited a couple of years to make sure it was right. We weren’t in a hurry. Maybe we should have been.” He considers. “But that would have changed how we were and I don’t want to rewrite a second of it.”
“What was she like?” I genuinely want to know.
Daniel reaches for his wine. “She was funny. She knew what mattered and what didn’t. When she looked at you, you felt seen.”
“I’m sure I would’ve liked her.”
His lips curve at the corner. “She would’ve liked you.”
I want to reach out and touch him, as if the simple brush of our hands can show him how much I respect who he was then, who he is now. The impossible choices he’s faced along the way.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before I ask, “Did you ever get help after she died?”
“I saw a therapist a few times.”
“Want to know what I would tell you if I was a therapist?”
He reaches for his drink. “Do I?”
“You’re hanging onto routines as a way to control life.”
Daniel takes a long gulp, his brows rising.
“Too honest?”
“A bit.”
“Sorry. I have good intentions.”
“You like to hear people’s pain. I think it’s easier than letting go of your own.”
Oof.
Daniel, 1. Girl with issues, 0.
“Maybe you should be the therapist.”
He waits me out.
Daniel’s not trying to be a dick. He has this way of being direct that cuts through my cheeriest bullshit.
I dab at my mouth with a napkin. “It’s stupid how it all started. My family was on the road for a basketball tournament of my brother’s. I’d been having stomach pains but Clay was the golden boy, and his team was going to the finals. In the middle of the game, I fell over on the floor. We got to a hospital and found out I had appendicitis. It actually ruptured before they could get it out.
“Do you know how big an appendix is?” I hold up my fingers. “That’s it. But in the end, there were lots of complications. I was in and out for six months. It took me an extra year to graduate. I got to know every person who worked in that wing. But even as I made new friends, they weren’t permanent. And the closer I got with them, the further I got from my real friends and family.