“Insistent,” he finishes with a chuckle.
“That’s one way of putting it.” I exhale a wave of nervous laughter.
“Can I admit something?” He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward, waiting for my nod. “I haven’t done much dating. None in the last decade. I should probably apologize now for any awkwardness on my behalf. I can assure you it has everything to do with me.” His honest words and sincere smile settle my fears.
“You’re in good company. I haven’t done much dating either.”
“There’s something else.” He glances down at the table. “And not your average first date conversation, but I’d rather just put it out there.” When his gaze lifts, his eyes are sad. “This is my first date since my wife passed away.”
“Oh.” My lungs draw tight, the shock of what he just shared filling me with empathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“I just want to be transparent. Because I’m out of practice with all of this stuff. Hell, I’m probably ruining our date before it’s started.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” I assure him. I’m curious, though, about this man’s story and everything he’s been through. We all have our struggles, and while I know nothing about losing a partner to death, I can imagine how difficult that is. And how much courage it takes for him to put himself back out there. “When did she pass? Ifyou don’t mind me asking. Sorry. If you’d rather not talk about it? I guess I’m bad at this first date business, too.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind answering any questions you have. Julia passed away just over three years ago.”
I think of Edward. How close he and I are, and how painful it must have been for Clint’s son to lose his mother. “You and your son have been through hell.”
“That’s an accurate way to sum it up.” He leans back in his seat and exhales a rush of air. “Now that I’ve trauma dumped, should we order a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
He makes eye contact with a staff member and lifts his hand, giving a slight wave. A few seconds later, a man comes by to take our order. I order the Syrah and he selects the Zinfandel. He also orders a charcuterie board and bread basket for us to share.
“Maeve said you enjoyed a good glass of wine. I hope this place is okay? It’s a little warm, but the view from this patio is worth it.”
“It’s perfect.” I glance over the railing and out into the vineyard. It’s beautiful here. Rows of vines lead out and down to the creek for a good mile. From the highway, you’d never suspect any of this existed. “I don’t get outside Wilder Valley much.” Or at all.
“I was worried this would be too far for you. But there were limited options in town.”
“Yeah, it’s a small town.” I was relieved we’d be meeting out of town. I’m nervous enough, and the pressure of the town’s gossip mill would only add to my unease. “Maeve said you are looking to move? Where do you live now?”
“After my wife died, we moved in with her parents. They’re in Morgantown.”
“That’s outside of Flagstaff?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “We have a place in Flag near the university. We, uh,I, still own the property. It’s a great little rental. But yeah, living with my in-laws was helpful. I’m not sure I could have done that first year without them, especially for childcare. I couldn’t takemore than a few weeks off work, and we were all grieving. Anyway, I’ve known for a while now that it’s time to start the next chapter. I want to find a town close enough that we can still visit. I think it’s important for Jesse to remain close with his grandparents. But, well, I probably don’t have to tell you how small towns can be.”
“Everyone knows your business.”
“Exactly.” He flashes me a grin. “That place is painted in reminders of Julia. I don’t think I could ever date someone new, and if I did, I’d be constantly worried about how it might hurt her parents. Not that I expect to dive right into a serious relationship. I just . . . I guess I just need the space . . . to leave room for the possibility of more. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” I nod. It’s one of the reasons I took the farthest possible job from Edward’s dad.
“Anyway, enough about me. I feel like I’ve been monopolizing this entire conversation. I want to know about you. About everything you love in Wilder Valley, and any parenting tips for getting Jesse established at the school.”
For the next hour, conversation flows as easily and smoothly as the wine we drink. Clint is an involved and engaged father, and intelligent too. We talk books, and I discover he loves suspense novels and biographies. He values community, and after the loss he experienced, his perspective on life is refreshing. He wants to date, but he intends to take things slowly, and he asks if I’m okay with that. He asks questions about me and my life, and listens in a way that feels genuine. On paper, he’s everything I could desire in a partner. We’re a perfect match.
Except I don’t feel a thing. There’s no buzz of undeniable energy that crackles and pops when our fingers accidentally brush. There’s no ache to know what his hands feel like on my body. I have a sneaking suspicion it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Jackson Wilder.
When we finish our wine and the charcuterie board, Clint pays the bill and suggests we take a walk down to the creek. He tells meabout the homes he toured in Wilder Valley last weekend, and I share about some of the programs at the library that his son might enjoy after the school year starts. Our discussion carries us back to the parking lot, where he walks me to my vehicle.
“Rosalie, thank you for today.”
“Me?” He’s the one who planned and paid for this date. “I should be thanking you. I think I found a new favorite wine.” I hold up the bottle he insisted on buying after noticing how much I enjoyed it.
“I was sort of dreading this date.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Not because of you! I wanted to meet you. God, I’m screwing up again, aren’t I?”
