Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
IRIS
It’s been three days since I met Clint in the bar, but he has texted me every day since. I have to appreciate how forward he is. Usually men wait three days and make a sacrifice to some man god before they even consider contacting a woman.
Not Clint. He messaged me before I even made it home. I didn’t feel the same spark I do with Max, but I liked this guy. He was cute and funny. A little cheesy, but he seemed nervous.
I get it. I am too.
So I agreed to a date. Tonight.
I won’t lie. I am nervous, but there is also this hopeful feeling growing inside of me. Maybe Clint could be the one.
I try to imagine him being the man at my side in front of that white picket fence, but it doesn’t feel quite right.
I brush the feeling away as I walk into the restaurant. I smile when I see Clint already waiting for me with a single rose in his hand.
“Hello, Iris. You look beautiful,” he tells me, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
“Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself,” I tell him, smiling at his slacks with the button-down shirt.
He is a very handsome man. Even if his sandy blond hair isn’t quite as dark as I like.
“Dapper? Should I be asking the lady if I can escort her to her dining table?” he asks.
I laugh. “I’m sorry. I enjoy historical movies and such. Think Bridgerton or Pride and Prejudice.”
His smile is crooked. “I dig it. You have to have something you enjoy. No one should be embarrassed by that.”
In a matter of seconds, he has me feeling at ease.
“Thank you. So do you know where our dining table is, or are we going to stand here for a bit longer?” I tease.
He chuckles. “I haven’t checked in yet. I wanted to wait.”
We approach the hostess stand. He gives his name before we are led to a table. Like the gentleman he is slowly proving to be, he pulls out my chair before helping me sit. Then he takes his seat across from me, his eyes going to the door before back to me.
“Looking for your escape route?” I ask.
“I like knowing where all the exits are in case of an emergency. Never know what might happen. This is the Big Apple, after all.”
I feel like for some this might be a red flag. Like, what is he waiting for? Is he paranoid?
It’s something Max does as well, though. Same with all the guys in our friend group. So instead, I find it comforting. A way of showing protection.
“Well, you better have my back then because I can’t see shit. That’s a lie. If the plumbing in the bathrooms doesn’t hold up, I could literally see shit,” I tell him, gesturing to the bathrooms behind him.
“You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours. Deal?” He holds out his hand.
I smile as I shake it. “Deal.”
“So have you ever been here before?” he asks me.
I look around at the place. It’s cute. Not too busy, but definitely a date night place. It has an intimate setting.
“No. Can’t say I have. Have you?” I ask.
He blushes a little. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Shit.”
I reach across the table and grab his hand. “It’s okay. You have dated before me. I have dated before you. I’m not mad you brought me to a date night spot.”
He looks relieved. “Can I be completely honest with you? It might ruin the date, though.”
“I prefer honesty. What’s the point in lying?” I ask him.
“Fair point. My friends dared me to approach you at the bar the other night. They gave me that shitty pickup line and about died when you gave me your number. They thought for sure I would chase you away.” He looks embarrassed now.
“You are a handsome man. Why would you need help landing a lady?” I ask him. “Or was it all a game?”
“Not a game. Truth is, I recently got out of a long-term relationship. It didn’t end on bad terms, and I’m a little hung up on her. So they were trying to get me back on the horse.”
“Hey, it’s okay. We all have someone we are hung up on, don’t we?” I tell him.
“You are being oddly cool about this. The guys warned me not to bring the ex up on the first date. I didn’t want to lead you on, though.”
“Don’t listen to them,” I tell him, pulling my napkin in my lap.
“Honesty is always best. I am not getting over a relationship, but I did have a man I crushed on for many years that I am trying to move past. So in my own way, I am in the boat paddling with you. If you are okay with it, I would like to paddle with you for a while. Say for at least one date?”
“Really? You still want to have dinner?” He looks surprised.
“I do. I like you, Clint. I can’t say that this will be forever, but I would be happy to get to know you more. That is, if you want the same.”
A real smile fills his face. “I would love that. It might sound lame, but this is my first date in three years. I mean, sure, she and I went out, but this is different. It’s new. I’m a little nervous, but excited too.”
“This isn’t my first date, but I haven’t had that many over the years, so I understand. Now here is the real make-or-break question…” I trail off.
He looks nervous again. I almost feel bad for him.
“What?” He swallows hard.
“Calamari or spinach and artichoke dip for a starter?”
He lets out this boisterous laugh, drawing the attention of others.
“Dip for sure. I’m sorry, but fried octopus? No, thank you.”
“Right answer, Clint. I have a feeling we will get along just fine.”
With the ice broken, we continue to chat as the night moves around us.
He really is a handsome man. Funny and kind.
So why is another brown-haired man stealing my thoughts away?
MAX
She went out on a date last night. I know because Bernard, our doorman, told me. I had to slip him a hundred to give up the details, but all he would tell me is she went out to meet a suitor. Fucker is loyal to her.
I can’t be mad at him, though. I would prefer him to be loyal to her than to me. That way he keeps her safe.
When I showed up at her door this morning, she was running around trying to get her things together. Her eyes looked a little sunken, as if she hadn’t gotten enough sleep.
The way my blood heated at the idea of her going home with her date last night had me ready to start a war. The only thing that stopped me was her sleepy voice telling me she stayed up too late watching some Formula One show.
It still didn’t wipe away my bad mood, though. After glaring at Bernard, reminding him I was unhappy with his refusal to tell me where she had gone last night so I could make sure she was okay, I loaded her into my car at the curb and drove us to the airport.
We didn’t speak, even after I stopped and got her favorite morning drink of chai tea. It wasn’t until we were seated in business class on the plane that she finally spoke to me.
“How long is the flight?” she asks, her eyes on the magazine in her hand with her feet spread out on the mostly reclined seat.
“About four hours, give or take,” I tell her, my own eyes on my laptop.
“Mmm. Wake me when we get there?” she asks as her eyes start to drift closed.
“Of course,” I tell her.
At first, I try to let her sleep in peace. I really do, but when her neck twists toward the aisle, I grip it, turning her head toward me. I put my laptop away before I lean my own seat back.
“Are we there?” she mumbles as I rest her head on my shoulder.
“No. Go back to sleep.”
I sigh, wishing I had given her the window seat. She would be more comfortable. Then again, my shoulder must be more comfortable than the wall of the plane.
I wouldn’t get any work done anyway. Not with my thoughts focused on her.
So I settle in, loving the feel of her head against my shoulder. I like that she feels safe with me.
For a moment, I let myself imagine that this is the real thing. That she really is my girl.
When the flight attendant, an older woman, passes by, she winks at me.
“Do you need anything, honey?” she whispers.
I shake my head.
“How long have you two been together?” she asks, pointing at Iris on my shoulder.
I go to say we aren’t, but I want to pretend. I want to know what it would feel like.
So instead, I say, “Ten years.”
She looks surprised. “You better put a ring on that then. Girls like her don’t wait forever.”
As she walks off, I look down at Iris.
She’s right. Girls like her don’t wait forever. She’s missing something in her life. Something I could give her if I could find the courage to speak the words out loud.
For the next four hours, I sit there soaking in the warmth of Iris against me. I wait until the very last second before I finally wake her, letting her know we are descending.
“How long did I sleep?” she asks as she stretches.
“About three and a half hours. Only about twenty minutes left now. I figured you might want some water or to use the lavatory.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I hate those things. They are so small and gross. The horror stories of what’s on the floors…” She visibly shudders.
“I know, but you remember the last time you thought you could hold it on a plane. Twenty minutes turned into forty-five, and you nearly knocked down an eighty-year-old lady trying to make it to the restroom in time,” I remind her.
She gives me a look of betrayal. “We never talk about Dallas. That’s the rules.”
I hold my hands up. “I am only warning you. You had that entire tea and a glass of water before you fell asleep. I don’t know how long it will take to taxi to the terminal.”
She lets out an adorable little growl. “Fine, but I want a Coke Zero here when I get back.”
I smile as she stands and heads toward the bathroom. I wave down the flight attendant and order her drink.
When Iris is back, she looks at my empty hands and is about to complain when the woman brings back her drink.
“Here you go, sweetie. Drink it fast, though. I will need to take it from you in about five minutes.”
Iris nods, taking a large gulp before closing her eyes and sighing.
“I remember when you used to say anything other than regular Coke was disgusting.” I tease her.
“Yeah, well, then I drank Coke Zero since it was healthier. I got used to it. Nothing but this for me now.”
I reach forward, brushing a piece of hair from her face.
“I look like a mess, don’t I? I didn’t even look in the mirror. I was too scared I would touch something gross,” she tells me.
I shake my head. “No. You look beautiful. Like always.”
I don’t know if it’s my tone of voice or the way I’m touching her, but something softens in her eyes. Before I can explore it, the pilot comes over the intercom, breaking the moment.
“Flight attendants, prepare for landing.”
Iris throws back the glass, draining it in one go.
This woman could read a grocery list, and I would find it sexy.
So why am I still so scared to tell her how I feel?