I should really consider that dating app again. I’m starting to see things that aren’t there, and with a man whom I could never go there with.
Is this what rock bottom feels like? Or is it that I’m so starved for a man’s attention that I’m seeing it when it’s not really there?
It’s been far longer than just since my divorce. Ethan and I hadn’t slept together in a few months. We tried endlessly to conceive, but to no avail. I wanted to get tested. He said we would just adopt. I was fine with that. He said we didn’t need to know which one of us had the issue because it could build resentment, and I agreed with him.
Turns out, the problem was me. That’s an easy enough elimination when his assistant was four months pregnant by the time I found out about his affair. I don’t even know if she was the only one, and honestly, I don’t care.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grins. “My daughter is very smart.”
“That she is,” I agree as our food is delivered.
Will immediately cuts off a piece of steak and holds his fork up to me across the table. “You have to try it,” he tells me.
I lift my fork to try to take it from him, and he shakes his head, laughing. “Just bite it off my fork. I don’t have cooties,” he teases.
Ethan hated eating after me. I wasn’t even allowed to drink out of his cups. Old habits die hard, I guess.
Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around the fork, and, unintentionally, my eyes find Will’s as I do. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, until my back is pressed against the booth and I’m chewing.
“Okay, that’s not bad,” I tell him. His smile grows. “I didn’t have to work to chew it.”
“I can make a mean steak,” Will boasts. “Next time, you’re trying mine. It will melt in your mouth. You can cut it with a fork,” he says, and I just smile and nod.
Do I know if I’ll ever get the chance to eat one of his steaks? No, I don’t. But tonight, here, as we sit across from each other, sharing a delicious meal, and even better company, I don’t think about what’s next. I don’t think about how I shouldn’t be here with him. I’m just here. I’m allowing myself the rest of the night to just be, and tomorrow, I’ll get my shit together.
Tomorrow, I’ll no longer allow myself to think of Will as anything but my best friend’s dad.
Eleven
Will
* * *
I take my time eating, telling myself it’s to savor the meal. Really, it’s to savor this time with her. Every slow bite is an excuse to linger, to keep this moment from ending too soon. I didn’t expect to run into Amanda tonight. I didn’t expect to enjoy her company as much as I have when I asked her to join me.
Tonight, sitting across from me in the dim lighting of the restaurant, she’s not my daughter’s best friend. She’s a beautiful and intoxicating woman, and the air between us is electric. I know she can feel it from the soft flush of her cheeks. I’m damn lucky to be here, sitting across from her, sharing this meal, sharing this time.
The truth is, with each new interaction, that spark grows a little brighter. I easily forget that my connection with her started with my daughter. I’m able to look past the fact that she’s damn near twenty years younger than me.
All I see is Mandy.
Mandy and the way her smile lights up her eyes, the way her laugh lingers, the way her big green eyes sparkle when she talks about her daughter, even the way she leans in when she’s invested in whatever story she’s telling me. Everything about this woman pulls me in deeper. It feels easy and natural, but it’s dangerous because I know she’s not someone I can pursue.
It figures the first woman to light my soul on fire and garner my attention for more than a couple of hours is the one I can never have.
“Can I get you anything else?” Todd, our waiter, asks. “Did you leave room for dessert?” he asks Amanda, smiling.
“No, thank you. It was delicious,” she says, returning his smile.
I clear my throat loudly, pulling Todd’s attention from her to me, and hand him my credit card. He was flirting with her, and I’m sitting right here. Sure, she’s not mine, but this asshole doesn’t know that.
“Oh, I can pay for mine. Can we sp—” she starts, but I wave Todd off. He smirks and disappears with my card. “Will,” Amanda scolds me gently. “Let me pay for mine at least.”
“Nope. I invited you to dinner.” I grin, and there’s that blush I’m so fond of.
“Technicality.” She laughs. “I bumped into you, and you felt sorry for me is more like it.”
“I bumped into a beautiful woman, who accepted my invitation to dinner,” I counter, my voice gruff with desire.