When I order pasta, he raises an eyebrow.
"I admire how relaxed you are about food," he says. "I wish I could eat like that and not stress about it."
I twirl my fork and keep my tone even. "It's called being hungry."
He laughs too loudly, like I made a joke. Then he leans in. "You should make more time for yourself, though. Get a sitter more often. You don't want to spend all your energy on the kid. You'll forget how to be a woman."
I set my fork down and look at him. "I'm doing fine remembering."
He doesn't catch the warning. "I mean, men like when a woman knows how to balance things. You're still young. You should enjoy it."
The waiter interrupts with dessert menus. I shake my head. "Just the check, please."
Tom looks surprised. "You're not in a rush, are you?"
"I am," I answer. "Early morning tomorrow."
When he offers to walk me to my car, I don't argue.
Outside, we approach my car and I thank him for dinner and reach for my keys, but he leans against the doorframe and gives me a look that makes my skin crawl.
"You could invite me in," he says. "Or we could just stay here a while. The windows are tinted."
"I'm really not in the mood tonight," I say, keeping my voice calm. Another night of vanilla sex is the last thing I need right now, plus Tom also has that habit of staring at himself in the mirror the whole time, like he's grading his own form.
Not me. Himself.
I don't have the emotional strength for that level of self-love tonight.
He laughs like I'm teasing him. "Come on. It's just a quick one. You need to loosen up."
The wordquickhits a nerve. I step back. "I don't feel well," I say. "I'm going home."
He holds up his hands. "Okay, okay. Didn't mean to offend."
I get in the car before he can try again. The drive home is short but feels long enough to clear my head. Raina greets me with a smile when I walk in. "He didn't wake at all," she says.
"Thank you," I say, pressing a few bills into her hand. "You can head home."
She leaves, and I lock the door behind her. The house is quiet again. I check on Jace.
He's fast asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand clutching his stuffed bear. I pull his blanket up a little higher, then go to my own room.
The dress ends up on a chair. The earrings come off next. I wash my face and climb into bed, the sheets cool against my skin.
For a moment I think about the night, about how easy it is for men like Tom to talk and how rare it is to feel seen.
Gabe's name sits on my tongue, unspoken, and I hate that even now, five years later, he still has that kind of hold on my thoughts.
I turn onto my side and close my eyes.
The house is quiet. My son is safe.
I have built a life that works. And yet something in me stays restless.
I reach for my phone and scroll all the way down to Gabe's chat thread. We never really talked after that night.
He sent a few messages even though I never gave him my number. Maybe he got it from my dad.
