“Yes. A kiss.”
“I'd get that at the end of the night anyway,” he says, sure of himself.
I laugh. “Well this way it's guaranteed.”
“Fair enough. Lady Astronaut?”
“Nope.”
“Hairdresser?”
“Nu uh.”
He goes through a string of guesses... teacher, dog walker, hotel manager. Finally he gives up.
“Okay, I'll have mercy on you. I'm a veterinary assistant. The clinic I work for works mainly with rescue groups. They get animals out of abusive situations and bring them to us to treat and rehabilitate them so they can find forever homes.”
“That's really nice,” he says, seeming genuine.
“So what do you do?”
“Guess.”
“hmmm, international spy?”
he shakes his head.
My other guesses are oil baron, janitor, firefighter, police chief, and CEO of a startup.
“Good guess,” he says after that last one. “You're right.”
I lean forward over the table, not missing how his eyes go straight to my cleavage. I grab his tie and pull him to me for a kiss far too sweet for that level of aggression.
“What was that for?” he asks when I pull back.
“Oh, so prizes just flow one way?”
He chuckles.
The ice now broken, we get into a variety of topics that seem safe for a first date. Then the food comes and we have something to occupy us besides nerves and small talk. I'm surprised I still get first date nerves. I should be more afraid of this date going well and how that might disrupt the balance of the roster. I also wonder briefly during dinner if he picked a place he knew I could afford to see if I'd go for the check at the end. The answer to that? Not even if someone dangled him over a cliff.
I've been told if the guy has money I should at least offer to pay part so I don't look like I'm just after his money, but absolutely not. A man that obsessed with the evil of a woman who wants a man who can provide for her is too damaged for me to deal with. If men can excuse their wandering eye with evolution, I can use the same argument for my need to have things paid for. Besides, he invited me. It's rude to invite someone out to dinner and not pay. You can find this rule in any standard etiquette book.
For dessert we share an order of cherries poached in red wine with mascarpone cream, which is just as sexy as it sounds.
After the meal, Dayne stands. “If you'll excuse me for a moment.”
He's gone a few minutes, and when he returns he asks if I'm ready to go. It occurs to me as he pulls my chair out that he got up and took care of the bill out of sight so it didn't even touch the table. Damn that's smooth. Jack who?
Dayne walks me to my car and goes for another kiss. I let him because it's not as though I can play the I don't kiss on the first date card after I already kissed him in the restaurant.
I thank him and tell him I had a lovely time, and he gracefully disengages and leaves once I'm safely inside my car.
He calls two days later to set up another date. Jack has started running hot and cold on me. I find I can't justify this anymore because I definitely can't juggle four men.
So Dayne is now on the roster taking Jack's place. I'm not sure how I got to this moment of dating three men that are actually serious candidates at the same time. Right now everything is wonderful, perfect. But I can't help my mind moving forward in time.
After all, I can't just rotate men in and out of my life forever. That was never the plan. The idea was that at some point the right man would step up and propose and then this life I was told I was supposed to want, the one that would make me happy would finally get started.
I allow myself for the first time to truly consider the new risk. What if I fall in love with more than one man? My problem is I attach too hard. This dating plan seemed perfect on paper. With three men I could never overattach to one if that one decided to string me along. I didn't truly consider that instead of solving all my problems I might have made them three times worse. Because I've already attached to Griffin and Soren. And I could see myself attaching to Dayne.
What if one of them proposes and I have to break three hearts... the other men I'm dating... and my own? What then?
But my mind remains silent, refusing to offer up an answer to this new dating problem I've created. I'm tempted to call Dayne back and say I can't do it. A love triangle surely is more manageable than a rectangle. But I don't make that call, instead leaving it to fate to untangle.
Griffin
I Met This Great Girl
Seven and a half months ago. Early November.
I'm at the most boring charity art auction I think I've ever had the displeasure of attending, but my company made a large donation to the museum. My name is in the glossy printed booklet for fuck's sake. So not attending didn't feel like an option. I didn't bring Livia. She already had plans tonight, but she would have made the evening tolerable.
It's one of those black tie events where a date isn't really optional, and I have too much of a playboy reputation to come here alone. So I called an escort agency I've used in the past for things like this—just a pretty girl on my arm for the evening who can get through a night without embarrassing me or expecting anything.
I can tell from the way she's been looking at me since we got here that she is very much hoping this ends up at my place, but that won't be happening. Sharon excuses herself to go to the ladies' room, and I spot a familiar face a few exhibits away.
Soren sees me and crosses the room. “I haven't seen you in a lifetime. I thought you fell off the planet,” he says.
I could say the same to him, but I shrug. “Just been busy. Work. You know how it is.”
“So how have you been?” Soren asks while he appraises what may be the ugliest sculpture ever created.
“Don't laugh, but I think I found the one. I think I'm going to ask her to marry me.”
“That blonde you came here with?” Soren asks. “She looks familiar.”
I laugh. Of course she'd look familiar to Soren. He and I have used the same agency in the past. He's probably taken her to an event much like this one.
“No, not Sharon. She's with the agency. Livia had plans tonight.”
Soren does a literal spit take of his champagne right onto me. I wipe the back of my face with my hand. “Thanks.”
“Sorry. What did you say her name was? The girl you're seeing?”
“Livia.”
“Livia, what?” Soren looks like he's seen a ghost.
“Fairchild. Why? Do you know her?”
“I'm dating her.” He practically spits the words at me.
“You're what?”
“Oh yes,” Soren says. “I've been dating that lovely con artist for four and a half months now. How long have you been dating her?”
“Three,” I say. Part of me is sure Soren is lying or has this girl mixed up with someone else. It can't be the same woman I'm seeing. Livia is so... nice. Fun. She isn't the cheating type.
“Has she slept with you?” Soren asks, almost menacingly.