“Only a few. I work a lot, and I'm tired when I get home, so I've put my personal life last in line for the past couple of years." I'm not sure why I said any of that because it's not the truth. The fact is, I haven't been the person who works past five or goes to bed at eight. Luck hasn't been on my side when meeting men I connect with, so I've made it seem like I'm working late and go to bed early. I'm a sad bag of twenties, inching toward thirty.
“It's nice to meet someone else who understands the lifestyle of a workaholic," he says. “My life's passion has revolved around my job for so long,I let my twenties slip by in a blink."
“I hear ya.” Nope. The only thing I've heard is my biological clock ticking. The worst part about my dating experiences is that I haven't even found someone I could see myself settling down with. Every date I have been on in the last two years has been ridiculous to where I think I've deserved the amount of laughable occurrences I've encountered. I've never been the type to need a boyfriend or to be in a relationship, but there have been moments this past year when I‘ve feltthe itch that something is missing in my life.
“So, what kinds of companies do you advertise for?" he asks.
“Well, since I've only been there a week, I know we advertise toilet paper and breast milk."
“Breast milk?" he repeats.
“Yeah, we're about to get sued for that one I think." I shouldn't have said that, but I'm past the point of caring.
Although, I can see an excitement flicker through Mitch's eyes. “Wow, can you talk about it?"
I glance down at the menu before I begin the story and pick out the chicken parmesan again because it's the only thing on this menu I can translate into English. Mitch hasn't glanced at the menu yet, so I assume he's been here and knows what he's getting.
“Well, a small company that sells mothers' breast milk to those in need of supply for their babies hired the guy who runs my company. He was sly with his campaign idea and convinced a model who didn't read all the fine print of his contract, to model half naked with a baby and a milk mustache. The short of it is, the model is about to lose his career if he can't get out of this contract. So far, the model's attorney hasn't had luck helping him out of the situation."
“Whoa," Mitch says.
“Yeah, the model is a nice guy—very nice, in fact. He doesn't deserve to lose his career because ofthis mess."
“Really, really nice?" Mitch asks with a smirk and a raised brow.
I cover my face, ashamed that I'm on a date, talking about another man and blushing. I groan out of frustration. “Sorry, I'm bad at dates," I tell him.
“Look, if we are being honest with each other, I was set up on this date by a friend. No offense, you're lovely, but I wasn't searching for a companion."
I can't tell him I was left without a choicetoo because Layla could get in trouble. “Yeah, I had agreed to our date before I met Wesley—the milk model. I guess a lot can happen in a week and I didn't want to stand you up tonight." That sounds awful, and I wanted to blow him off,but he comes with money. “Anyway, you never know what can happen in life, right?"
“Sure," he says, tensing his shoulders. I wonder if he knows how much his buddy paid for this date.
A waiter greets us with a glass pitcher of water and fills our glasses. “Could I get you two anything to drink?" he asks.
“I think we're ready to order," Mitch says. He'spulling the same “let's hurry this up”trick I used last night. Am I as bad as Nick to him? Geez. At least I'm not a pervert, besides my dress that is red and too short. Oh God. “Madelyn, do you like wine?"
“I do. Red is my favorite."
“Bring us your best recommendation for a bottle of red—something from 2000 to 2005 if you have it."
“It will be my pleasure," the waiter responds.
“I'll have the chicken parmesan, please, with ziti."
“I'll have the veal parmesan," Mitch follows, “with Linguine."
The waiter collects our menus, and Mitch leans forward, placing his elbows down onto the table. “Tell me more about this situation with your friend, Wesley. This is my area of expertise, so I'm eager to hear what happened."
I'm surprised he's so interested in Wesley, but I don’t think he gives a crap about this date, and it's his safe way out.
I begin the story, and somehow, our conversation lasts about an hour before I finish explaining everything that happened throughout the last weeks. I forgot about our dinner. We didn't even get salads or the wine. “What the heck is going on? I didn't realize we had been talking for so long." He turns around and flags down a man who looks like a manager at the front host desk.
“We ordered an hour ago, and we haven't gotten our drinks or salad yet." While Mitch is talking to the waiter, I reach into my bag for my phone since I suspect Wesley might be wondering about the status of my date, plus I can tell him I might have help for him.
I'm still feeling around after a long minute, now realizing I don't have my phone. I never leave home without it. It's like I'm naked.
“You okay?" Mitch asks me, noticing the look on my face.
