As I stand frozen in my spot, watching Gerald and Miss Perfect walk over to me, I’m seriously wishing I’d had Blaire tag along to the bathroom. One look at this woman and I can tell she exudes more sex appeal and confidence in her pinky than I do in my entire body.
As they approach me, I notice they look like complete opposites. Gerald’s spiky jet-black hair to her red, his ruggedness to her sexiness, yet they look like they’re made for each other. Gerald has that same cocky stride he’s always had, like it’s his world and we’re all just living in it. But the weird thing is, even with all that swagger, our relationship seemed to lack all the passion.
I kept hoping to feel something more, to feel the spark I’ve read about in romance novels or see in movies—you know the spark…the one that lights up the woman’s body and heart at the same time, giving her butterflies that don’t just flutter in her belly but attack—but I never did. Gerald used to blame me. He would say it’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him. But even if I wasn’t waiting until marriage to have sex, I couldn’t see myself even wanting to be with him. If there’s no spark out of the bedroom, how can I expect there to be a spark in the bedroom? I don’t for a second believe two people who lack chemistry with their clothes on, will suddenly spark a flame once their clothes come off.
Needless to say, Gerald and I never found our spark, and one day he got tired of waiting for me to put out and walked out the door. My heart hurt, but worse, it made me lose a little bit of hope in the male species, that there might not be a man out there willing to wait for me, willing to take the time to find our spark outside of the bedroom. I know I live in a time where sex is rarely viewed as sacred, but I’m hoping one day I’ll meet a man who will love me enough to honor my beliefs. I’m not saying I’m a prude. I read plenty of romance books that include sex in full detail, and Gerald and I have had a couple groping sessions—which made me question if the romance books are lying. It’s just that when I give myself to a man, I want it to be with the person I plan to spend the rest of my life with.
“Wow, look at you.” Gerald appraises me as the woman he’s with glares my way.
“Gerald, it’s good to see you.” I give them both a small smile in an attempt at being polite.
“Likewise. Nevaeh, this is Chantal, my fiancée.” When he places emphasis on the last word, I find my heart suddenly beating a little faster, jealousy seeping through the cracks of the tough wall I’ve erected to protect myself. Not jealousy over the fact Gerald is engaged, but that he found the person he wants to spend his life with. For him to propose to her so quickly, she must be giving him what I couldn’t—what I chose not to. What if it’s me? What if I’m broken? What if the lack of spark was because of me and not Gerald? The thought hurts my heart. I don’t want to die alone.
“It’s nice to meet you, Chantal.” I stick my hand out to greet her, but when she looks at me like I’m a disease, I quickly retreat to save myself from humiliation.
“It’s your birthday today, right?” Gerald asks. I’m surprised he’s remembered since he always forgot during the years we were together.
“Yeah, I’m here with Blaire,” I say, wanting out of this awkward situation and still needing to pee.
Gerald nods. “Of course you are. And I’m assuming you still live together?”
On more than one occasion, Gerald voiced his disdain for Blaire, agreeing with my mother that I would be better off living elsewhere. Trust me when I say, Gerald’s feelings toward Blaire are more than mutual.
“We are. She’s somewhere around here.” I look around in hope that by willing her to appear, she will suddenly materialize like magic.
“I’m surprised to see you in a club.”
I’m not sure how his words are meant to be taken, but they rub me the wrong way.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gives me a quizzical look. “Nothing. You’re just usually teaching, reading, or volunteering at your church. I never imagined running into you in a club. Does your mom know you’re here?” He smirks condescendingly, and I know now his words were meant as a dig at me.
Yes, it’s true, I spend my days teaching, I do enjoy snuggling up with a good book, and I do spend a lot of my free time running the church’s youth program, but there is more to me than that. Well, actually, there really isn’t, which only helps support the fact that I need to stop planning to make changes in my life and actually makethem. I enjoy teaching and reading and running the youth program, but I want to experience more. I have an entire list of things I want to do that’s sitting in my nightstand drawer, but rarely gets to make an appearance.
“I’m pretty sure my mom doesn’t have a say in what I do,” I hiss, annoyed that Gerald is completely spot-on. She might not have a say in what I do, but she definitely has an opinion and, up until tonight, I allowed her opinion to steer my choices—but not anymore.
He chuckles. “Hmm…I guess a lot has changed in the last six months.”
I shrug, too fired up to respond. It hasn’t changed… but it will. Life is too short, and I’ve spent too much time waiting for it to change, when the fact is, the only way anything will ever change is if I do something about it. It’s my life and I’m in charge of how I live it.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asks.
His question momentarily shocks me. I know I should be honest and say no, but when Chantal gives me a knowing look, my insecurities come out.
“Nevaeh? Are you seeing anyone?” Gerald repeats.
The lie slides out easier than it should. “Yes.”
He looks around incredulously, while his fiancée hits me with a bitchy smirk.
“Is he here?” he asks, when he doesn’t locate him.
I’m not thinking clearly—I’ll blame it on my martini. “He’s at the bar.”
They swing their gazes over to where I mentioned, and then Gerald says, “Him? That’s who you’re seeing?”
I follow their line of vision, shocked when I spot the man Geraldthinks I’m seeing…because my goodness, he is beyond gorgeous. My eyes land on a pair of calculating eyes that hold me frozen in place. With his messy brown hair, expensive looking suit that fits him oh so perfectly, and a face that belongs on a cover of GQ, the man is sexy…and completely out of my league. My eyes are locked with his as he holds my stare for a second longer, before turning his attention back to his drink.
