Chapter 11
11
I s this guy for real?
I wonder as I look across the table at Jake.
He’s sweet and considerate …
almost too good to be true.
Who do I have to thank for him being this way?
His mom?
His ex?
It’s hard to believe someone can be this good without a catch.
But there’s always a catch.
“A vanilla latte, no whipped cream,” I say when he asks about my coffee order for tomorrow.
He’s already planning our morning date, and I’m letting myself get swept into it.
“What time should I pick you up? The sun rises around five thirty.”
“You casually know when the sun rises?”
“A habit from the Marines,” he explains.
“I don’t need an alarm. I’m up at zero dark thirty every day.”
Of course, he’s disciplined.
Before Gabby, this fact would have been a red flag, but I’m also up early each day.
“Tomorrow is a rare opportunity for me to sleep in,” I say with a small laugh, “but I’ll be awake by seven, guaranteed.”
Anna, our server, approaches the table.
“Looks like we enjoyed everything. Would you like anything else? Boxes?”
Jake doesn’t hesitate to ask, “You still want that post-meal cocktail?”
“I’d love one more negroni, thanks.” It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable with someone.
“Same here,” he adds, and Anna walks away.
“How about you pick me up at seven-thirty?”
“Roger that,” Jake says, and the smile on his face …
he’s a Golden Retriever , I think, shaking my head internally.
He’s just so .
.
.
happy.
Where are the red flags?
Where are the flaws?
It’s almost like he’s too perfect.
“I feel like you’re judging me,” he says, tilting his head like he’s catching onto my internal monologue.
“My internal thoughts are less skeptical about you than when this date started.”
Jake reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently.
His hand is big and strong.
I glance down at our hands, loosely holding each other on the table.
It’s strange how natural this feels— like this isn’t our first date , like we’ve known each other longer.
I glance back up at him, smiling, enjoying this moment, and then down at our hands again.
My mind briefly wanders to the last time I felt this at ease with someone.
It’s been a while.
“Tell me some more habits from the Marines that are hard to break.” The Marines must have shaped him.
Maybe if I understand more about him, I can find something that makes him less perfect—something more human.
“I have to work out every day.”
“ Have to?”
“I feel out of whack if I don’t. Plus, at the station, there’s a lot of downtime, so it’s easy to fit it in.”
“I go in waves with working out,” I admit, unsure why I’m sharing this.
“Currently, I’m not working out much.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re on your feet all day, and I’m sure you’re picking up and carrying your daughter around. More activity than most.”
It’s sweet , but all I can think about is how jigglier I feel compared to where I want to be.
Especially compared to his perfect fucking body.
I glance down at the table, tempted to deflect, to brush it off.
“You look great. Don’t stress about it.”
“Can you read my mind?” I joke, but there’s a nervousness in my voice.
I don’t think I’m that easy of a book to read.
“I’m learning your face.”
Before I can respond, Anna returns, sliding our cocktails in front of us.
The timing couldn’t be better, a distraction from this feeling of vulnerability.
He holds his glass up for a toast.
“To learning how to read each other.”
I lift my glass, clinking it against his.
But I’m less present, getting lost in my thoughts.
Learning to read each other.
That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?
Trying to figure out if this is real.
Trying to figure out if I can trust him.
If I can trust myself again.
I don’t want to get hurt.
Most of all, I don’t want to be let down again.
As we sip our drinks, I try to push all those thoughts out and enjoy this great date.
But that nagging voice is still there .
It’s always there.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
Maybe learning more about Jake will help me get out of my head.
“Tell me about your family.”
“I have an older brother and a younger sister. Neither of them live in the Midwest anymore. My parents live a couple of towns over, and we’re pretty close. Like Saturday night dinners together, and I help them around the house when stuff breaks.”
Of course, he has a close family.
Of course, he’s the perfect guy who helps his parents.
I shouldn’t internally groan, but I do.
He keeps getting more and more perfect, and I’m waiting for the flaw that never shows up.
I feel like I’m a few sentences away from giving in, from letting myself believe this is real.
“What about you?” he asks after I awkwardly don’t respond right away.
“As I mentioned, my dad passed. My mom is toxic.” I make a scrunch face and then sip my drink.
“I cut her out of my life in my twenties. Gabby hasn’t met her … I feel guilty about it sometimes, but I know it’s for the best.”
Jake squeezes my hand again.
If we keep going out on dates, I’ll have to talk about all this shit …
my mom, my ex.
Agh!
I hate talking about these things.
“My younger sister lives in Phoenix,” I add, refocusing.
“We see each other a couple of times a year. We’re close but not, like, best friends.”
“So, you’re really doing it alone up here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why move here?”
I shake my head, not wanting to dive into all of that tonight.
“Too long of a story.”
“What’s the abbreviated version?”
“I’ve always liked visiting this area. It’s close enough yet far enough away from Chicago, where Gabby’s dad lives. It feels like a fresh start.”
“You think you’ll stick around?”
“Why?”
“Long distance sucks.”
I laugh, but I hold back from shutting down the flirtation.
Jake eyes my empty drink.
“Should I get you back?”
I nod, thinking about how I like living in Wisconsin, but I don't know what the future holds for Gabby and me.