Chapter Nice Guy Ken
Nice Guy Ken
Isit at the table waiting for Ken. Part of me wanted to make this a coffee meet-up so I could escape faster if things go south, but I figured I owed him a real chance.
“Hey,” Ken says as he sits across from me, his face pinched. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Hi,” I answer. “And no, I’m not mad.”
“I’m so sorry, Holly. I never should have freaked out like that. I had no right to say what I did. Jealousy got the better of me, and I lashed out. It’s one of my flaws I need to work on.”
I snort, eyes on the menu. “I noticed.”
“I really like you. I don’t like being one of the multiple people you’re seeing, but I knew that going in. We’re not an official couple. Yet. But I thought that our night together meant as much to you as it did to me.”
The way he says “yet” makes me annoyed. I liked his directness when we first met, but now it sounds arrogant.
“I think there’s a disconnect with us,” I say, setting the menu down. “You went ghost on me after our night together. I did all of the reaching out, and when you did respond to my texts, you promised to call when you had time and never did.”
His jaw clenches, but he nods. “I was busy, but I see where you’re coming from.”
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I say, meeting his gaze.
He frowns, taken aback. “What?”
“Something you don’t tell many people. I don’t feel like I really know you.”
“You know me better than most,” he says. “We got to know each other pretty well on our last date.”
If I know him better than most, is he a stranger to even those he considers to be close?
And sex doesn’t mean you know someone. Decker’s had countless one-night stands, and I don’t think he nor any of the women would feel as they know the other better than most. It’s such a ludicrous statement.
“I don’t know your parents’ names. If you have siblings. Your hobbies. If you prefer cats or dogs,” I say, giving him an idea of what I’m talking about.
“Carol and Dale. Only child. No hobbies—my businesses are my life. When I’m not working, I watch basketball and golf. And I don’t like dogs or cats. I’d rather keep my place pet-hair free.”
Basketball and golf. Two of my least favorite sports because I find them boring. “You don’t like dogs?”
He shrugs and reaches for his water glass, taking a drink. “I’m not going to go out of my way to kick one, but I’m not rescuing one either.”
“I just got a puppy.”
“That’s cool. As long as he stays at your place, and you lint-roll before we get together, we’ll be fine.”
So, it’s not trauma or allergies. He just doesn’t like them. Serial killer vibes for sure.
“If we ever moved in together, how would that work with the dog?”
The server stops by and smiles. “Ready to order?”
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Ken says.
“I need a few more minutes,” I cut in.
His smile is tight. “We need a few minutes,” he tells her, then sighs when she leaves. “If we were talking about moving in together, we’d have to find a place for your dog.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t want dog hair on my stuff. But we’d find him a good home.”
Translation: I’d be expected to give up my dog for him.
“So,” Ken asks, “are you still looking for love on that dating app?”
His tone borders on condescending. I once thought he was a nice guy. Now? I’m pretty sure he just knows how to play the game to lure in women until they’re in too deep to get out or see the truth.
“I’m done with the app. Toward the end, I picked weird categories for fun. To see who would show up. One guy really believed himself to be a vampire—”
“I don’t really want to hear about dates with other men,” he interrupts.
My heart sinks. We’re at the point where he dictates what I can talk about. I’ve been here before, and I don’t like it.
“Oh. Okay.”
“I want to focus on us. Figure out how we move forward.”
It sounds almost… manipulative. “Move forward?”
“Past the fact you basically cheated on me.” I look at him in surprise, and he adds, “And past my insults that came when I saw you with that other guy. We should figure out how to keep me from getting to that point again.”
“It sounds like you’re not prepared to take accountability for how you reacted. You sound like you’re blaming me.”
He sighs, and I suddenly feel like I’m being a difficult child refusing to sit still in a fancy restaurant. “I’m not blaming you. But I wouldn’t have gotten to that point if you weren’t dating other people.”
The server returns. I’m about to say I’m not ready to order, but Ken just takes over.
“We’ll both have the roast duck with steamed vegetables and the house red.”
“I don’t want duck,” I say.
“You’ll love it. Trust me.”
The server raises her eyebrows. “I’ll give you a minute before I put the order in. I’ll check back in a few.”
The look she gives Ken says he’ll probably end up with some of her spit in his wine when she brings it.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he asks, his voice exasperated.
“Because I don’t like duck.”
“How do you know? It’s like people who think they hate coffee because they’ve only had cheap stuff. Then they try mine—”
“I’ve tried the duck here, Ken. I don’t like it.”
He throws his hands up. “Okay. Didn’t realize you were such a picky eater.”
“It’s not picky to dislike something you like.”
“Let’s get back to why we’re here. How do we make sure I’m not pushed to that point again?”
Again, it’s my fault. This is all on me even though the only reason we met was because I was on a date. Even before things progressed to the bedroom with him, I was honest. I told him I was seeing other men.
“It feels like you’re trying to force me into a commitment.”
“I thought you liked me.”
“I did. But I told you from the start that there were two other guys I was seeing, and you’re acting like you’re blindsided.”
“I figured sleeping together was your decision. Are you sleeping with all your dates? Was I right?”
There it is. Implying I’m a whore again. “What I do with anyone else doesn’t matter. We’re not a couple, and we haven’t been.”
“So, you do sleep around.”
“No, I sleep with people I connect with. And I don’t think you’re someone I feel a connection with anymore.”
He exhales slowly, clearly attempting to keep his cool. “This isn’t going the way I wanted.”
“And how was it supposed to go, Ken?”
“With you apologizing.”
I stare with wide eyes, and I almost laugh. Except he’s not joking. “If you’d let me explain, you’d see there’s nothing for me to apologize for. We weren’t exclusive. You knew that.”
“I see a future with you, Holly. That’s what I’m fighting for.”
“A future where I can’t tell you things I find funny because you’ll get jealous? Where my dog disappears because you don’t like him? Paint me a clear picture of what this future looks like, Ken.”
“I see you living with me, helping me unwind, and maybe even helping me expand my businesses. Being cared for by me. Every girl’s dream.”
I frown. “And my dog? Where does he land in this?”
“With your brother. That way you can still visit.”
“You really expect me to choose between you and my dog?”
“It’s not really a choice,” he says with a chuckle.
I stare in shock. None of this sounds like the person I first dated. The man who cooked me dinner and made me feel like I’d won the lottery with him. “And do I have a job in this fantasy?”
“Of course. You take care of the house. When we get married, you’ll raise the kids.”
“Straight from 1956.”
Ken smirks. “Don’t act like you don’t want that life. Every woman does.”
“Not this woman. I love my job. I love my dog. You never asked what I dream of, and because of that, this isn’t going to work.”
“That’s not—”
“It is. You’re selfish. Not only in the bedroom but in life. Your dreams mean more than mine. And you think you’ve claimed me, but you haven’t.”
He scoffs. “Selfish? Holly, you’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Are you trying to say I’m being dramatic?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to give up my dog and my independence, but I’m dramatic because I’m saying no? Sounds like a selfish man to me.”
“Every woman wants this!” he shouts. “You all talk about marrying rich so you can be taken care of! That’s what I’m offering you!”
The surrounding tables have gone quiet, and the server glares like she’s ready to smack him upside the head with a wine bottle.
“Why assume all women want the same thing?”
“Because you do.”
“So, are all men exactly the same?”
He shakes his head. “No. Men are diverse. You’ve got ambitious breadwinners like me, tattooed playboys like your brother’s roommate—”
“Wait, how do you know about Decker?”
“I checked into you before asking you out.”
Creepy. “How?”
“Paid with credit card. I saw your name. It wasn’t hard to find you online.”
“This isn’t going to work out, Ken. I’m sorry.”
I stand, and he grabs my wrist, tugging me to face him. “What exactly did I do that was so horrible?”
“You want to control the woman you’re with.
You decided what I want without asking. And you looked into me like a stalker.
I can’t be with someone like that. For the record, though,” I say, pulling my wrist from his grip, “you’re right when you say it’s not really a choice between you and my dog. I choose my dog.”
He stands, tossing his napkin on the table. “You’ll never find another man like me, Holly. If you leave now, I won’t take you back again.”
“Again?” I almost laugh. “You know, I hope you can find a girl who wants what you do, but I’m not that girl.”
Walking away, I let out a long breath, and I feel relief. And then amusement when I hear a guy say, “Bro, you might want to get out of here before all the women here stab you with forks.”
“Because I said what everyone thinks?” Ken challenges.
I can’t help it. I turn and watch because there’s no way he’s actually defending himself right now.
“No, you’re messed up. No wonder she chose the dog. Even I wanna kick your ass.”
Good luck, Ken.
Outside, I breathe in the chilly air and take a moment. Deep down, I always knew who I’d choose. I just didn’t think the process of elimination would be this easy. At the end of the day, I need to be me—because I’m the one I’m with for the rest of my life.