When he was seatednext to me, he paused with his hand hovering over the push button ignition. “Lilouis booked out thanks to Killian. Well, Wyatt now. ButKillian was the one that originally built the reputation.Saritadoes all right, although she has room to grow. But she’s also my newestventure. Bianca could drown us all.”
“Did Vera say youhave a bad chef?”
“Had a bad chef,”Ezra clarified while he pulled out on the main roads. “And he wasn’t bad inthat he couldn’t cook. He was bad in that he terrorized his staff and thediners. He was a hazard that I gave too much leniency for much too long. NowBianca is without a leader and none of the current staff are brave enough tostep up. It has to be an outside hire, but I can’t find anyone with the rightcaliber that is also willing to resuscitate a damaged reputation.”
“You can’t find achef that wants to take over Bianca? I find that hard to believe.”
“I offered her toVera. Did you know that? She turned me down. Every chef I’ve taken her to hasturned me down. Excluding Vera, most of the chefs I’ve met would rather walkinto a sure thing than gamble a flailing liability. They don’t want to tarnishtheir reputations and I’m not willing to bet on someone straight out of school.I need experience and wisdom. I need someone with grit.” He turned his head,meeting my gaze for a brief, sincere second before he turned back to the road.“It’s much harder to find someone like that than you’d think.”
I didn’t know whatto say or how to respond. So I blurted the first thing that popped into myhead. “I can’t believe Vera turned you down. She’s wanted something like Biancaforever.”
“Yeah, well thatwas before she met Killian. Her dream changed. I don’t fault her for it.Actually, I respect the hell out of her. Any woman that can tame Killiandeserves sainthood or something. At the very least, her own restaurant.”
“Shetameshim and he pushes her to get outside of her box andface her fears. They’re so perfect for each other it’s kind of nauseating.”
His mouth kicked upon one side. “I didn’t peg you for a cynic, Molly.”
“Well, a growingnumber of bad blind dates will do that to you. True love is for the very fewand the very, very lucky.”
He glanced at meout of the side of his eye. I thought he was going to call me on my true lovedig, but instead he asked, “Why do you keep agreeing to blind dates if so manyof them have been bad?”
Good question. Whydid I keep saying yes? “Hope, I guess. Maybe I’m a cynic, but not by choice.I’m holding out for that one blind date that isn’t so bad. Or a guy that’s alsoa man.” I felt like slapping my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe I justsaid that! Or that I kept talking, apparently unable to shut up before I made afool of myself. “I’m just tired of boys that don’t know what they’re lookingfor in a woman or in life. And I’m really tired of late night dick pics afterjust a couple dates. For real, it’s like your entire species doesn’t understandthat not everyone is as obsessed with your penis as you are.”
“Hey, now! Not allof us enjoy taking genital selfies.” Ezra looked truly offended.
“Apologies then.Maybe there are a few of you out there with some self-restraint.”
He noddedthoughtfully. “So Molly Maverick’s dating criteria include men of a certain agewith steady jobs and no dick pics?”
Smiling at hisprofile, I wondered what he thought of me and my broken filter. “Is it reallyasking so much?”
He tapped thesteering wheel while his car vroomed through traffic, taking on the road withfirm decisiveness and lightning quick speed—the same way I imagined Ezra dideverything in life. His shrug was the same way, a simple lift and drop of hisbroad shoulders.
The car slowed to astop at a red light. He turned his head again, the glow of the streetlightscasting his face in gold and red,backdroppedby the neonlights of buildings and the glitter of the pavement. “I agree with you. Mollythe Maverick, you deserve a man.”
Having expected himto elaborate more on what kind of man I deserved, a surprised laugh escaped me.“Just any old man?”
He shot me animpatient glare. “A man, Molly. Not a boy. Not a pervert. Not a blind date thatdoesn’t know the difference between the incredibly smart, uncommonly beautifulwoman sitting in front of him and a casual hookup.”
His words soothedsome mysterious ache inside me. They were like balm on a wound I didn’t know Ihad.
This was it. Thecrux of it. What I’d been so worried about. The source of my frustratingjealousy for Vera.
Iwanteda man. Not in like theheterosexual obvious way. But like Ezra had said.I wanted a man.Not a boy pretending to be a man. Not an overlysexualized, horny douchebag that only wanted one-night stands. Not a guy afraidto call me on the phone, or ask for my number, or pick up the dinner tabbecause it wasn’t PC anymore.
I wanted a man thatstill believed in chivalry. I wanted a strong, capable counterpart that wouldprotect me, shelter me, and always, always do what was best for me.
Maybe that made meold-fashioned or outdated or whatever, but it was the truth. I was tired ofplaying games that got me nowhere. I was exhausted with dating apps andpossibilities that fizzled to nothing. I was worn out with meeting Mr. Wrong,after Mr. Wrong, after Mr. Wrong.
I saw what Vera hadnow. I’d witnessed how special it could be. Killian cherished her. He thoughtabout her needs first and bent over backward to make her happy. Of course theystill fought and they were learning to live together, which was not an easytransition according to her. But he respected her and loved her and made herfeel loved.
That was what Iwanted. It wasn’t that I was jealous that Vera had Killian. I was jealous ofwhat Vera and Killian had because I so badly wanted it for myself.
Before them, Ihadn’t held a whole lot of hope for relationships. My parents hated each other.Vera’s dad had spent his entire life in a kind of grieving misery over his deadwife. I had never had a stellar example of real love until Vera and Killian. Seeingthe real deal had awoken some kind of love-hungry beast inside me.
I could no longerbe satisfied with casual dating or meaningless hookups. I could no longer waitout my twenties or my thirties or the rest of my single life because it didn’tmatter.
It did matter.
