Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I don’t want to mention her again. It makes me sound younger. My mommy gets me good rezzies.
I quickly course correct with, “My friend has great taste.”
“Then we’d go there tonight,” he says, and that has to be the end. We’ve played our fantasy date to its logical conclusion.
My suspicions are confirmed when he swings his legs out of bed. “I should get ready. International check-in and all.” With a yawn, Nick drags a hand through his hair. The signals are crystal clear. It’s time to go. The night is over.
Last night was the true fantasy.
I try to zoom in on reality. I need to head to my room, pack quickly, order a Lyft. I slide out of bed and hunt for my clothes while he grabs boxer briefs. As I find my dress by the couch, his phone rings.
My back is turned so I can’t see him grab it, but after a beat, he says, “Just a sec. That’s my—” But then he must hit ignore, since he says to me, “I’ll call him back later.”
My radar beeps. A horrible thought lodges in my brain, shame and anger chasing it. Quickly, I tug on my useless panties then my bra, covering myself up and grabbing my rings before I spit out: “Are you married?”
His jaw drops. He blinks. Shakes his head in obvious shock. “What the hell?”
But I have to know. “Was that your wife? The he you’ll call back?”
With angry eyes, Nick advances toward me. “Are you kidding me? I’m not married,” he says, frustration laced in his tone. “I’d never do a goddamn thing we did if I were married, involved or dating.” He points to his phone on the bed, like he’s stabbing the air. “That was my brother. He’s married and going through some stuff. I stayed with him for a few nights. He’s calling and I wanted to see what’s going on, but I hit ignore because I’m with you.”
A new shame washes through me for thinking the worst. But the worst happens.
His bio probably would have revealed if he was married, but you never know. Wincing, I tug on my dress. “I had to ask. Just in case.”
He closes the distance between us and holds my face. A little hard, but a little desperate too. “I’m divorced,” he says, with resignation. “I was married young. It wasn’t…a good marriage. We split several years ago.”
“Oh,” I say, swallowing roughly, feeling guiltier, since I can tell he’s a touch embarrassed to admit all of that. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not a liar, Lola,” he says, his tone vulnerable.
“I just didn’t want to be a fool,” I whisper. “Or a home-wrecker.”
“You’re neither. I promise. You can look me up online later.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Want to share a car to the airport? I have one coming in thirty minutes.”
I should turn him down. I should stay away from men I don’t truly know. I should avoid anything more in case it leads to feelings. But when he kisses my hair, all I feel is my wish for a little more. “Yes. I’ll grab my things and meet you in the lobby.”
“Perfect,” he says, and we pick a time, but before I can leave, his eyes twinkle. “But are you married?”
I laugh. As if.
He holds my gaze intensely. “It’s not an unreasonable question.”
He’s not wrong. I assumed he was more likely to be married and cheat given his age, but I could be a liar too.
Anyone can.
People go on the road, they fabricate, and they break hearts. People do that at home too. You never know who your secrets and truths are safe with.
“I’m very single,” I say.
“Good. Then we’ll have our second date on the way to the airport. How do you like your coffee?”
I tell him, then quickly get ready for an unexpected date.
Only this second date will be real, rather than a fantasy. But it will end soon so I’ll be safe.
9
RISK ASSESSMENT
Nick
I lied.
That wasn’t my brother on the phone.
But I don’t want to tell Lola my son called. I don’t want her to see me as someone old enough to have a grown kid. Mostly, I don’t want to have the inevitable conversation about how young I was when he was born.
That conversation opens up too much pain, too much judgment. I endured enough judgment from my ex’s family, thank you very much. Don’t need another serving.
And I definitely don’t want to sully our last few moments together with any uncomfortable conversations. She gave me her body last night, and I won’t take a chance in case she’d think she gave the keys to the wrong man.
Call it risk assessment. There’s no need for full disclosure since I won’t see her again.
After I pack, I grab breakfast, then meet her at the town car I ordered that’s waiting in front of the hotel.