“Yeah. I think she does.”
“And you told her? About Margot?”
“Not yet. I didn’t want to lead with that.” We continued down the path, past some pickleball courts. “Hi, I’m Vance, I have a daughter I haven’t seen in six years because her mother poisoned her against me. Want to get dinner?”
“Honey.” Mama’s hand covered mine. “You can’t keep carrying that shame. None of this is your fault.”
“I know that. Logically, I know that.” I met her eyes. “But it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I failed her.”
“You didn’t fail anyone. You fought. You spent every penny you had on lawyers. You moved back here to be close to her. You’ve sent letters, cards, gifts?—”
“That all get returned unopened.”
“Because her mother is a narcissist who cares more about punishing you than protecting her own child.” Mom’s voice was fierce. “That’s on her, not you.”
I wanted to believe that. Some days, I even did. Today wasn’t one of those days. “I’m sorry, Mama. I wish it was different. I know you’d love to be part of her life.”
“I would. And I will. God will answer our prayers, if we’re faithful.”
I kind of wanted to roll my eyes but didn’t want to offend my sweet mother.
“Do you think a woman could ever love a guy who’s estranged from his own child?” I asked. “She might think it shows lack of character.”
“Not if you tell her what happened,” Mama said.
“It’s hard to explain what Nicole’s really like.”
“Trust me, everyone knows the type of person she is. Vain. Narcissistic. Shallow. But enough of that. Tell me what appealed to you about this woman?” Mama asked.
“We have a lot in common. She loves food and wine. She’s an interior designer, which is such an interesting job.”
“Oh dear. Are you going to tell her about the reality show?”
“I think I’ll see how it goes first.” She might be bothered that I would be on television. I sensed she was private. However, I’m only going to be on one episode. It isn’t like it will be ongoing. They said something about three days of shooting for the preliminaries.
I’d swiped past dozens of profiles over the past few months—beautiful women, interesting women, women who probably would’ve been perfectly fine for a casual date or two. Yet, I’d never reached out to any of them. I don’t know exactly what made me reach out to Lila, other than our profile handles were eerily similar. And she was stunning.
“It’s been a while since I took a woman out,” I said. “I hope I still remember how.”
“Be yourself, honey. And she’ll fall madly in love with you.”
By six-thirty, I was back at the apartment, changed into dark jeans and a white button-down, sleeves rolled to my forearms.I'd debated about a blazer. Too formal? Trying too hard? Finally, I decided to bring it just in case. If she was dressed up, I’d slip it on.
My hair was still damp from the shower. I ran a hand through it, checking my reflection in the small mirror by the door. Did I look okay? Too eager? Not eager enough?
The guy looking back at me looked older than I felt—salt-and-pepper hair, lines around the eyes. But not bad for forty-three. When I was a younger man, I’d never worried about my appearance or whether I could pull out the charm. I’d never had a problem attracting women. But lately, I didn’t feel so charming. Mostly just sad.
“You’re fine. You can do this.”
My reflection didn't look convinced.
I checked my phone. No messages from Lila. That was good, right? She wasn't canceling.Stop. Breathe.After a few deep breaths, I grabbed my keys and wallet, double-checked I had my phone, and headed downstairs.
The bookstore was closed for the evening, but I could see Dorian through the window, still inside doing paperwork at the counter. He looked up as I passed, gave me a thumbs up and a grin. I made a face and kept going.
The evening air was warm, carrying the salt-sweet scent of the ocean. Downtown was busy with Saturday night energy—couples window shopping, families heading to dinner, teenagers clustered outside the ice cream shop.
I walked the two blocks to The Pelican, my heart beating too fast, my palms slightly damp. This was ridiculous. I'd dated before. I'd been married, for God's sake. I knew how this worked. Except I didn't. Not anymore. Not after how badly Nicole had wrecked my heart, my confidence, my belief that I was lovable.
