But I think I did.
When I arrived at the bar, Andrew—as always—was already there. He’d changed into a white button-up shirt, dark pants, and he’d brushed his hair. I personally preferred his earlierpost-roll-in-the-haystyle. The expression on his face told me everything I needed to know—he liked what he saw. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the moment our gaze connected. I loved the way it made me feel. Like I was his queen.
The hostess seated us outside on the patio at the candlelit table closest to the garden. A light breeze ruffled my hair, bringing out goosebumps on my shoulders. The sun hadn’t fully set, and its low rays created a warm hue behind the green hills. Twinkling tealight candles in crystal bowls encircled a miniature magenta floral centerpiece. This was an unexpected dinner setting. The surrounding tables had flowers but no candles. Was this Andrew’s touch?
A young, handsome server brought a wine binder and presented it to Andrew.
“She’s the expert.” Andrew handed me the heavy leather-bound folder.
“This is an excellent collection of wines.” I perused the list, flipping pages. “Red or white?”
“Surprise me.”
Andrew picked up his glass of water and sipped it, watching me with tense, dark eyes. I tried to act nonchalant, but underneath I was melting like a soy candle. His stare was like he was undressing me, and oh god, I wished he would. I bit my lip and continued looking over red wines, aware he was studying me. “You’re staring at me. How do I stop it?” I glanced at him over the edge of the binder.
“You look ethereal tonight.”
Good lord. Who used words like this? How would one reply to that?
“I know, right?” I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned, and other ladies’ bits too.
“Why are you single?”
“Oh, here we go.” I hid my face behind the list. “You’ve already asked me that.”
“And I don’t think you gave me a real answer.”
That question had a loaded and super complicated answer, which I wasn’t going to give. Not tonight. Perhaps, just like William, I haven’t found the right person. But I also wasn’t looking. Or maybe, I was a realist about true love. It didn’t exist. It didn’t work for our parents. It didn’t work for William. It didn’t work for Greg and me. The best analogy was people who got bitten hard by a dog when they were young. The accident had lodged a seed of fear that was to stay put for the rest of their life. They understood that not all dogs were mean; they saw others owning a dog or even playing with a stranger’s dog, yet they stayed cautious of the animal, not taking chances of getting bitten again.
Our server brought a generous basket of bread and a dish of butter and asked if we were ready for our wine order. I couldn’t decide between two bottles, so we ordered both.
The best way to avoid answering a question was to respond with the same question.
“So, are you seeing anybody?” I reached for a bread roll.
I bit into the warm and sweet piece of heaven and let out a happy sigh.
“Don’t think I’ll let you ignore my question.” The creases around his eyes deepened as he smiled.
With my mouth full, I gestured for him to continue.
“After Brie and I split, I didn’t want to get involved, and then I got too busy with work.”
“Is being a university professor busy work?” I finished the roll and went for another.
“Yes. No. But starting a relationship is hard when I leave for unexpected expeditions that can last weeks. The only time I stayed at home for over a year was when my parents died.” The sadness crossed his face, and he looked away. “Charlotte needed me, and I needed her.”
My pain—and bitterness—over not having a good family couldn’t be worse than the insurmountable ache of losing loving parents. I grew up not knowing what I missed, whereas Andrew knew exactly what he’d lost.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly and reached out and touched his forearm.
“It happened a long time ago.” His gaze fell on my hand, then he looked at me, his lips curling up. “Now, your turn to answer.”
I retrieved my hand. “How did you and Miss Bleached Hair meet?”
His eyebrows pinched for a split second, and he scoffed. “Through a mutual friend. He set us up on a blind date.”
It was hard to believe Andrew had to go on a blind date to find himself a girlfriend. You’d think that with his charisma and melt-your-panties façade women lined up to date him. And he had to pick a total bitch. One thing Andrew and I had in common, we both sucked at selecting the right partners.
