Chapter 5 #2
I smile, thinking of Gary's late-night coaching session over the phone. Excitement for this lunch has been building all morning, yet the truth is that a first date awaits me tonight.
"I've been messaging someone, because I've decided to give dating apps one last shot.
I'm officially at the point where my romantic encounters could be categorized as either 'Developmentally Stuck at Twelve' or 'Definitely Belongs on a Watch List.' Four dates.
Each one a special little slice of hell. "
Vince laughs, the sound warm.
He leans back on the chair to flag down a waitress and captures someone's attention immediately, because of course he does. You can't ignore someone who looks like Vince when they smile and wave in your direction.
The waitress walks over, lost in the same lovesick daze I always enter when Vince grants me the same attention. Her fingers twitch around the pencil tucked behind her ear, a goofy, worshipful grin spreading across her face.
"Well, maybe fifth time's the charm," Vince remarks, leaning forward in his chair with an ease that makes the wood groan softly. "What's her name?"
I freeze, the question landing like ice in my veins. For a second, I doubt everything—the eye contact that felt like electricity, the moments that stretched too long, the subtle flirtation that made my skin prickle. Maybe I imagined it all, read too much into nothing.
"I, uh... Ted."
I lean back, crossing my legs as I pick up the menu again, the laminated pages a shield against his gaze. The words blur together into meaningless shapes.
The waitress arrives, her voice bright. "What can I get you started with today?" she asks.
I order a salad at random, not having spent a single moment actually reading the menu. Vince orders the same thing, the simple mirroring easing the tension knotting in my stomach, a small anchor in this sea of uncertainty.
"So, you have a date with Ted tonight," Vince says after the waitress leaves, his voice cutting through the silence that settled between us.
"Yeah. We're having dinner at a steakhouse nearby. He seems nice, but honestly, I'm apprehensive. None of the guys I've met through these apps have been anywhere near normal. Everyone uses these apps, but I don't understand why. Do they actually work for anyone?"
Vince laughs, the sound warm and genuine as he sets his sunglasses on the table with a soft click.
"I don't use them anymore. I hate the whole premise.
Half the fun of dating is finding someone you have sparks with during your regular day-to-day.
How do you sense a connection through an app?
But what do I know, I'm trapped in a broken marriage, so clearly I'm an expert. "
I sip my water, the cool liquid a welcome distraction as I debate whether I should probe after his comment last night. I go for it.
"What do you mean trapped?"
Vince's fingers rake through his hair, tousling the perfectly styled strands into disarray.
He stares past me, at the sun-dappled wall behind our table, as if the answer to my question might be written there.
"I'm separated," he says, his voice lower now, stripped of its usual teasing edge.
"But my wife... she won't sign the papers. "
He lets out a breath that sounds heavier than it should, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.
"I'm trying to be civil about it. I won't force her hand.
" His gaze finally returns to mine, and for the first time, I see something like exhaustion clouding those light brown eyes.
"It's been years now, though. Years." A faint, humorless smile touches his lips.
"If you wanted to have lunch with me just to hear my entire failed marriage story, Andy, you're going to need more than an hour. "
I don't know what to say. Vince's carefree persona hides a lot more baggage than I expected. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Yeah," he says, smiling. "Her name's Samantha. She's amazing. I met her on set last year, she's one of the writers. Hilarious. Smart. I'm lucky to have her. Maybe she'll stop by one day, and you'll get to meet her."
Of course he has a girlfriend. How could a guy like Vince be single? I don't need him to describe her. I already know she has to be gorgeous, the kind of stunning that stops people in their tracks.
Vince leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he lowers his voice. "And before you ask—I wasn't seeing Sam before I tried to divorce my wife. I wasn't seeing anyone at all back then. That wasn't the reason."
"I wasn't going to ask that," I reply, raising an eyebrow.
"But you were damn well going to think it," Vince says, pointing at me with a knowing smirk that makes my stomach flip.
I laugh nervously, the sound catching in my throat. "Maybe. When did you start dating her?"
"About six months ago."
I hesitate but can't stop myself. "When do I get to hear the full story?"
Vince laughs, leaning his elbow on the table. "Andy. For fuck's sake. Did you ask me to lunch just for gossip?"
I sit up straight, shaking my head. "No! I swear. I'm just curious. Honestly, it's none of my business. Forget I asked, that was rude of me." A small, nervous laugh escapes my lips, and I mutter under my breath, "I don't even know why you came to lunch with me."
Vince leans back, smiling as he studies me. I avoid his gaze, focusing on the condensation pooling on my glass, my finger tracing random patterns through the droplets.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.
"What?"
"You just said you don't know why I came to lunch with you."
"I like you, but... we're not the same. You know what I mean?"
My finger continues tracing the droplets, and I catch a glimpse of the waitress walking toward us with our food just as Vince finally replies.
"Andy, I'll tell you what. What time do you run?"
"Six."
"I run at the same time, but only on weekdays. Let's be running buds. We'd have plenty of time to talk about all sorts of unimportant things."
What the hell is he talking about? Us, hanging out? Weekdays? Running? Buds?
"I usually run around my neighborhood. I don't even know where you live." I bite my lip. "I'll take a wild guess that you don't live anywhere near my crappy apartment, Vince."
"I'll come pick you up. We'll drive to a nearby park and run."
"You don't have to do all that."
Vince laughs, leaning back in his chair and giving me a look that says he's already frustrated with my excuses. "Don't tell me what to do. You're my running bud now. I'll pick you up, you'll embarrass yourself trying to keep up, and I'll drop you back off. No big deal."
I finally laugh, shaking my head.
He gives me a bold smile that I return with skeptical eyes.
"I'll pick you up right at six. We won't drive far. Does that work for you?" Vince asks.
"You really aren't used to not getting your way, are you?"
Vince tries to hold back a smile as he reaches for his phone. "Andy, quit using double negatives and give me your number."
I need to stop smiling at him like a Disney princess.
As the waitress delivers our lunch, Vince hands me his phone, instructing me to put in my number and address. The whole thing feels surreal. I don't understand how my efforts to befriend him are working, but I'm not about to question it.
The rest of lunch flies by.
We chat about running and routines. I'm surprised to learn Vince is a bit of a health nut.
He comes off so blasé about life that I hadn't expected it.
Vince tells me about growing up in Minnesota.
He's one of six kids and the youngest in the family.
Both his parents have passed, and now it's just him and his older sister, who has a family of her own. He doesn't go home much anymore.
I tell him about Alaska, how I got into yoga, and why it means so much to me. I leave out the part about moving to LA out of desperation to escape my depression. That feels too heavy for our first lunch.
Vince surprises me again when he talks about his love for classical art and literature. He majored in Classics at university, knows Latin, and stumbled into theater by chance. Connections in the industry led him to acting on film.
It's hard to believe at first, but Vince knows what he's talking about. As an Art History dropout, I test him a bit, and his face lights up every time he proves me wrong. By the end of lunch, I realize something that cracks me up.
Vince is a total nerd.
Realizing this makes me feel more at ease, so by the time we return to work that afternoon I'm filled with a sense of optimism. I even found myself hoping Vince might treat me a little kinder on camera after our lunch.
He doesn't.
He roasts me the entire taping, but I laugh along anyway.
Whenever he gives me that sidelong glance paired with one of his genuine smiles—the same one I'd seen at lunch—I know we're good.