As for the forms and the wait, I had taken the day off anyway. Why not? She seemed nice, and I was comfortable here. Besides, I wanted to keep this moving as much as I could, so I might as well get started now.
First, I signed permission for them to contact my bank and physician for limited information—I made sure I was tested at the end of every relationship and my bank balance was fine. The agency owner took them and started the process.
In for a penny…
4
ANDROMEDA
My phone pingedas I reached for the door at home. I glanced down and scrolled to the notification so that I could read the message. They’d already arranged a time and location.
The date itself was for six o'clock this evening. Wow, they really did work fast.
An unfamiliar frisson of excitement made me smile. I checked the location on GPS with a few quick taps of my fingertips. The restaurant was about forty-five minutes away, taking traffic into account.
I just had to decide what to wear and get myself there. Three hours. I could do this.
My phone remained blessedly free of Franklin's further hysterics as I showered and selected my outfit. I decided on red for a pop of color, one of my favorite shirts, with jeans. I applied lipstick to match and smoky eyes, tamed my hair into a loose knot, and generally did all the things to try and make a striking first impression.
Not a dress, because on the off chance that I didn’t enjoy myself, I at least wanted to be comfortable. I wasn’t about to pour myself into a fitted dress to meet a man wearing jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt who bored me. The clothing was forgivable, the boring part wasn’t. It had happened before, and I wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Even in a regular shirt, my chest preceded me into rooms and was the first thing most men noticed. No need to emphasize it.
Putting on my best show was fun. Still, to be honest, what you saw was what you got with me. I looked high maintenance and expensive because I was, but I could take care of myself nicely. No more time wasted on playing games. I had better things to do.
The restaurant branch of the agency was located in a nearby suburb, on a street with a spectacular view of the mountains. The small brick building was heavily screened by bushes. I drove past it twice before I spotted the tiny discreet sign over the door. A very nice location, although I would have preferred a little better signage instead of having to keep swinging around the block like a lost rubbernecker. Then again, I was fairly sure that a neon sign wasn’t exactly the vibe they wanted to give off here.
When I walked up, the waiter checked my name off against the reservations before leading me to a table.
Make that an exclusive little restaurant. Score one.
The interior was gorgeous. Lovely amber glass coverings scattered the light, lending the interior a soft glow while not making it difficult to see. The scattered tables and chairs were all made of wood glossy with polish, and plants were partially used to conceal the tables and occupants, giving a sense of privacy. I wondered about the pricing of the menus and how much of it served to support the dating agency. Their interior decoration was fantastic. Each nook was secluded from all the other people, allowing privacy to interact while still giving the impression of being in a bustling restaurant.
My first date, Bran, looked up as we approached, his expression as serious as it was in the photo. Ah-ha. I was right. Hewasthe man from the elevator. I’d thought so from the picture. That silver hair wasn’t so common.
Small freaking world.
He remained seated as I approached and settled myself in the chair. I was torn. Men assuming I couldn't seat myself had always annoyed me, but yet he hadn’t made the gesture to be slapped down either. Just another proof that I was hard to please.
"Andromeda?" His voice was just as low and pleasant on the ear as I remembered. Also, after a brief glance down, his eyes stayed on my face.
"Yes, hello. It’s nice to see you again." I unfolded my napkin and put it in my lap.
"I decided to wait to order until you arrived, since I know nothing about your likes or dislikes."
Again, points for being smart. He was racking them up. I loathed a man ordering for me.Maybeit would’ve been okay if we’d been together long enough for him to learn my customary orders.
Even then, not so much. What if I was in the mood for something different?
“I ordered a bottle of white. I’m happy to share it, but if you don’t like it, that's fine, we can order another.”
The bottle arrived as he spoke, cork still seated.
I nodded. “A glass would be lovely, thank you.” The menus arrived at the same time, glossy and elegant as they were carefully placed on the tablecloth.
I perused it. A prix fixe menu. The offerings were salmon, steak and shrimp, or sauteed scallops. Alas for those who didn’t like red meat or preferred chicken, apparently. Or those with allergies. Or vegetarians. Or…
“Scallops for me,” I said and closed the menu. The least messy of the three, because I really liked this shirt. “Broccoli for the vegetable and crème brûlée to end.”
