“What if I’m never ready?” I ask, voicing my concerns.
“You will be. Hell, you might already be,” Parker muses. “You just haven’t met the man who can prove it to you.”
“I don’t want to be scared, but I am,” I confess.
“It’s understandable. But you don’t have to go in for a relationship straight off the bat. A little bit of hot, rebound sex might sort you out.”
“Parker,” Casey laughs.
“What? You know I’m talking sense. Sometimes we just need to prove to ourselves that we can still ride the horse, if you know what I mean.”
“Even the tablecloth knows what you mean,” Casey teases before turning to me. “What are you scared of?”
“Having my heart ripped out and stomped on again.” As soon as I say the words, I want the floor to swallow me whole.
“I hate to say it, but maybe Parker has a point.”
“Thank you,” the woman in question quips.
“Dating doesn’t have to be about relationships and commitment. It can just be about fun. About learning who you are now and what you want.”
“You think I should go over there and talk to him?” Even saying the words sends a shot of fear through me.
“No, I’m not saying that at all. But one day, you’ll meet someone who you’re not going to be so scared of, someone who might offer you a way to hop back up on that non-existent horse.”
“How long has it been?” Parker asks, lowering her voice a little.
“Um…”
“Say no more,” she laughs. “But again, Casey is right. Maybe Hot Suit Man isn’t the one, but one day there will be someone who excites you more than scares you.”
They’re right, I know they are. But right now, I’m finding it hard to believe.
“Are we going to drink these?” I ask.
“Too fucking right we are,” Parker says as she lifts her glass, looking across the restaurant to the man at the bar before taking a sip. “He should be thinking himself lucky; these would have cost him four times the amount if we were really drinking.”
“Shame he’s going to be leaving alone,” Casey muses.
“Nah, he’s going to turn his attention to someone else the second we leave, I’m sure,” I reason. It helps me feel better about rejecting him.
I know I’m not a man in an expensive designer suit, but I’d never have the guts to do something as brazen as he just did. Hell, I’m not even sure I could proposition someone over a message, let alone in person. The thought is terrifying.
Lingering rejection burns deep in my stomach. It’s easier to bear than it used to be. But it’s still there, along with a truckload of other issues my last relationship left me with.
Until I fully deal with them, I’m never going to be able to get back on the horse. I’ll be nothing but a self-conscious, over-thinking disappointment. No man wants a woman like that. They want women like the two sitting opposite me. Strong, independent, fierce. It’s sexy as hell, and I’m fully aware that I am none of those things.
The girls try to distract me, but the truth is, I ruin my own evening by getting up in my own head. By the time my rideshare drops me home, all I want to do is strip out of my dress, pull on some sweats and a hoodie, and hide under a blanket.
Earlier, things were better; I felt like the old me again.
Progress won’t be linear or simple.
I have to hold on to that.
9
COLE
