* * *
After having my nails done at The Mistletoe Spa, I find Matt waiting for me out front holding a single red rose. He’s dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a white polo shirt that hugs his pecs deliciously. His ink seems more vibrant, peeking out around his white top. “Hi.”
“Hi. Where are you taking me now?” I giggle.
“I may shoot myself for not using this opportunity to impress you, but I just want to enjoy your company tonight. No pretense.”
He couldn’t have said anything more perfect. “I think you did.”
“Did what?”
“Impress me. Everything about this date is perfect so far.”
His smile is like the sun on a cloudy day. I can feel it to my core. Matt reaches for my hand and leads me to his truck. I have to look out the window so he doesn’t see me swoon as he holds my hand as we drive to dinner.
We pull up to The Wild Shrimp, and I chuckle. “Can’t get enough of this place, can you?”
“What can I say? I’m a creature of habit. Plus, they have damn good seafood, drinks, and dancing.” He winks.
God, this man. He’s such a charmer. Was he this way with girls back in the day? Did he sweep Jennifer and countless other girls off their feet the same way?Ugh. Don’t think about them.
We head inside and spend the evening eating, dancing, laughing, and chatting about everything and nothing. There isn’t one moment of awkwardness between us. It’s as if we’ve been in each other’s lives for the last decade without missing a beat.
“So,” Matt says hesitantly, running his hand over the beautiful dark stubble covering the sharp lines of his jaw. “Elliot. How did I not know that was your given name?”
“Not sure how you missed that. Lord knows I got picked on for it back in school.” I shudder, letting thoughts of yesteryear creep in. I’m not letting that awful time ruin this perfect evening. It may only be one perfect date with a boy I idolized, but we’ve both grown, and I intend to be fully present for this dream-like experience. Because I’ll likely replay it many times in the future. “It’s Pops’s name. I’m named after both of my grandparents. Elliot Joan Albright.”
“Oh, yeah? It’s different. I like it. I’m not named after anyone.” A frown mars his beautiful features. “And my dad is a junior but wouldn’t name Harrison after him because he’s adopted.” Noticing my horrified expression, he clarifies, “We’re both adopted, but he’s the oldest, so I wouldn’t have gotten his name even if he wasn’t a jackass.”
I can’t help sitting up in my seat at this remark. “That’s awful.” I wince, regretting my outburst. I don’t want to make him feel worse. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say. But how you arrive in your family shouldn’t matter. Just that they loved you enough to want you there.” This topic cuts a little too close to home. I probably need to change the subject. “Your ink. The symbols are Russian. Aren’t they?”
Matthew reaches up to rub the pads of his fingers along the exposed skin of his throat where the top of the multicolored domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral are drawn. “Yeah.” He smiles. “I was born there.”
“Wow. That’s so cool.” I beam.
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I went through a bit of an identity crisis my senior year.” His eyes connect with mine, and I glimpse what feels like sorrow lying beneath. “Ellie, there’s no excuse. But I should’ve done more. Said something when they…” Matthew looks toward the dance floor. I never expected anyone to defend me. I admit I charged him guilty by association. But joining in with their vitriol was what really hurt.
Matthew waves to the server, signaling our evening is coming to a close. I wish it hadn’t ended on such a downer. But there’s no use pretending the past didn’t happen. “You ready to head out?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to focus on this handsome, generous man who wanted to spend the evening with me. That after all of these years, I had the date I dreamed of. And it was nearly perfect.
Matt reaches for my hand to help me stand but doesn’t let go until we reach his truck. I’m twenty-seven and still feel like a giddy schoolgirl, wondering if my hands are sweating and if he’ll offer to kiss me goodnight.
We drive to my place in silence, his thumb dusting over my knuckles along the way. If only someone like him could be mine. But he’d said he was only here until he could get his mother’s care settled. And he lit up like the lights strung for the Christmas festival when talking about his job and home in Sycamore Mountain earlier tonight. There’s no doubt I’m a temporary diversion.
We make it about halfway down my drive before Matt slows his truck to a stop. Twisting in his seat, he holds my hand a little tighter. “Ellie, I know it’s only a first date. But can I kiss you?”
First date.Will there be more?
He scoots closer to me and cups my face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve always thought so. I’m so glad I got a second chance to finally tell you.”
What the hell?
His words strike a match. Maybe he’s more superficial than I wanted to believe. I’ve never been embarrassed about the way I look. Sure, I was short and chubby as a teen, but I didn’t have any female role models. I ate to dull the pain. The pain of losing my grandma Joan. The pain of realizing it didn’t matter if my biological mother was gone and my father was in jail because they didn’t want me anyway. The pain of enduring insults hurled by ignorant, shallow people born with a silver spoon in their mouths. People with bigger issues than mine, if they could have so much to be grateful for, yet choose to focus on degrading me.
Pulling his hands from my face, I turn to exit the truck. I don’t need to listen to these lies. He may like what I’ve turned into now. But I know he didn’t like what he saw back then.
“I have to go.”
