Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Scott
Trina and I go into the bar and are seated at a small booth lined with red velvet. I’ve never been here, but a few of my clients have and recommended it. Apparently, the drinks are created by master mixologists who have won awards.
“This place feels naughty,” Trina says as she looks around.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It looks like one of those secret sex rooms.” She turns to me. “Did you see that movie where the guy had a sex room?”
I really wish she’d stop saying sex room because it’s making my cock react.
“No, I didn’t see it,” I say.
“It was red and black like this. And really dark.” Trina picks up the menu and looks through it. “These all sound good. What do you usually have?”
“I’ve never been here.”
“Then why did you pick this place?”
“Because these drinks are like nothing you’ve ever had. And since tonight is about new beginnings, I thought we’d start with a new drink.”
She looks up from the menu. “You really put a lot of thought into tonight.”
“As any guy should. If he’s taking you out, he should at least do a little planning.”
“Asher never did. I had to plan everything.”
“I think we need a rule that you can’t talk about him tonight.”
She nods. “You’re right. No talking about Asher. Starting now.”
We have two rounds of drinks before deciding to move on to dinner. I feel totally fine, but Trina is drunk. The drinks were strong and she’s tiny and probably didn’t eat lunch.
“Those were so good,” she says, stumbling out of the bar.
“You need some help?” I say.
“Maybe a little.”
I take her hand as we continue down the street. I haven’t held a girl’s hand since… a time I don’t care to remember. Holding hands is one of those relationship things I don’t do anymore. I’m only doing it with Trina so she doesn’t fall, or that’s what I’m telling myself.
“We should’ve been doing this the whole time.”
“Doing what?”
“Holding hands,” she says, looking up at me. “It’s something you do on a date.” She holds up our joined hands. “This is practice for my real date.”
“I didn’t know we were taking it that far. I thought just being out with me was enough.”
“I’d like to make it as real as possible,” she says, swinging our hands. “So I won’t be nervous when I’m out with someone else.”
As real as possible? How real are we talking about? Is she expecting us to kiss? Or do more than that?
I’m surprised she said that, but I’m sure it’s only because she’s drunk. Drunk Trina is a lot different than sober Trina. She’s more expressive, talking with her hands and acting out the stories she’s telling me. And she seems to say whatever pops in her mind, which could make for a very interesting night.
We arrive at the restaurant, which is a trendy place in the heart of Manhattan. I took my parents here when they were in town. They loved the food but said it was too expensive, even though I was paying. They forget how much money I have and that I have no problem spending it.
“I really want the steak,” Trina says, looking at the menu. “But it’s so expensive.”
“You sound like my parents. They said the same thing when I took them here. If you want the steak, get it. I’m paying. Don’t worry about the price.”
She shuts her menu. “How often do your parents visit?”
“They’ve only been here once. They didn’t like all the noise and the crowds so I doubt they’ll come back.”
“Oh, shit,” she says, staring at the door.
“What?”
“It’s not him.” She sighs in relief. “I thought this guy coming in the restaurant was Asher, but it was just a guy who looks like him.” She puts her hand on her chest and takes a breath. “Okay, I can relax now.”
“Were you worried about running into him, or worried about him seeing you with another guy?”
“Both. I’m not ready to see him, and I don’t want him seeing me with you and thinking I’m already dating someone.”
“Why do you care?”
“I guess I’m just thinking how I’d feel if I saw him with another girl. I’d feel bad that he moved on so fast.”
“Why are you worrying about his feelings? He didn’t care about yours when he dumped you and left you homeless.”
She just shrugs.
“I know we’re not supposed to talk about him, but I have to ask. Were things good between you two before he ended it?”
“I thought they were, but thinking about it now, I’d have to say no. Asher was spending more and more time at work, and when he was home, he just wanted to watch sports or go to sleep.”
“So you two weren’t…” I wait for her to finish my thought.
“We were, but not as often as before. And whenever we did it, he seemed distracted, like his mind was on work.”
“When did things change?”
“It was probably around six months ago?”
“Isn’t that when you got engaged?”
“You’re right,” she says, like she just realized this. “Do you think that’s why he started acting that way? Because he was panicking over the engagement?”
“It’s possible.”
“But he proposed. It was his idea. I didn’t force him to, although I did bring up marriage a lot.” She looks at me. “I bet that was it. He didn’t want to propose. He wasn’t ready to get married, but he knew I was, so he proposed and then resented me for it and pulled away.”
“If he felt that way, he should’ve talked to you, not let you believe you were getting married.”
“I should’ve said something to him. I knew he was acting strange, but I thought he was just stressed from work. I didn’t want to think it had anything to do with us getting married. I was already planning the wedding, at least on paper. I’d printed out all these photos of floral arrangements and bridesmaid dresses and locations. I’d even picked out my dress, but something was telling me not to buy it.” She looks down at the table. “Part of me must’ve known the wedding was never going to happen.”
It sounds like their relationship hadn’t been good for a long time. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to move on with someone else, even though that thought keeps running through my head. I know it’s wrong, but I keep looking for excuses to justify what might happen later, not that anything will. But if it did, would it really be that wrong? Assuming she wanted something to happen, of course, but I get the feeling she does from the way she keeps touching me and looking at me.
We have a long, leisurely dinner, neither of us in a rush to leave because we’re really enjoying ourselves. The food is exceptional, the conversation flows easily, and I’m loving the view of Trina across from me. I can’t believe how different she looks tonight. I thought she was pretty before, but tonight she looks elegant and sophisticated, and she carries herself differently. Getting all dressed up has given her a new level of confidence that I’m finding to be incredibly sexy.
“Ready to get out of here?” I say after I’ve paid the check.
“What’s next?”
“Something I think you’ll really like.”
I get up and pull her chair out, then offer her my hand. She takes it as she stands up and keeps hold of it as we leave the restaurant. She’s not drunk anymore, but it’s probably best if I hold her hand so she doesn’t fall in those heels.
“Wait, is this…” Trina’s eyes widen when we arrive outside the gallery. She turns to me. “How did you get tickets?”
I shrug. “I know a guy.”
She lunges at me, hugging me and taking me by complete surprise. “This is amazing! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
I knew she’d be excited, but not this excited. This gallery has a special weekend exhibit of fashion photography from the past 50 years, along with live models wearing iconic fashions from different eras. The tickets were very limited and sold out quickly. Bella, one of my clients, is friends with someone who works at the gallery, and when she mentioned this event, I immediately thought of Trina. I asked Bella to get me tickets, thinking I’d give them to Trina and she could take a friend, but then we planned this fake date and I decided to take her myself.
She lets me go and gives me a huge smile, her whole face lit up. “You have no idea how much I wanted to see this! I’m obsessed with fashion photography. Growing up, I’d print out photos and frame them and put them on my wall.”
“Then it’s good I got tickets.” I take her hand. “Let’s go inside.”
There’s a tiny woman standing at the door, wearing a black suit with feathers around the neckline and huge glasses with thick black frames.
“Tickets, please,” she says. I pull up the tickets on my phone for her to scan. “Enjoy the exhibit.”
As we go into the gallery, a man approaches us with a tray of champagne. Trina and I each take a glass.
“They have champagne!” Trina squeals, turning to me. “Let’s toast.”
“To what?”
“New beginnings. Well, for me, not you.”
“To new beginnings,” I say, clinking her glass. I sip the champagne. I’m not a big fan of champagne, but this one is pretty good.
“Oh, I got another one,” Trina says.
“Another toast?”
“Yeah.” She holds up her glass. “To the best fake date I’ve ever had.”
“Isn’t this the only fake date you’ve had?”
She laughs. “Okay, correction. To the best night I’ve ever had with a guy.” She clinks my glass and sips her champagne.
“I’m flattered, but that can’t be true. What about your ex?”
She shakes her head. “None of the times we went out were ever this good. I mean, this event alone puts it over the top. I can’t believe we’re here! I heard about this months ago, but never in a million years thought I’d be able to go.”
So it’s the event that made this night so great. It wasn’t about me. I should’ve known that, but for a moment, I thought she was going to say something else.
“Let’s go look around,” I say, noticing more people entering the gallery.
We’re there for over two hours. I could’ve been done in half that time, but Trina wanted to stop at every photo, reading the little plaques beside each one. I didn’t mind. I loved seeing her get so excited, especially after seeing her cry earlier today. It’s good I took her out. She needed something to take her mind off the breakup and this event definitely did the trick. She was smiling the whole time, like she’d forgotten all about her ex.
To me, that makes tonight a success.