8. Lavinia
EIGHT
LAVINIA
The date was Aunt Constance’s idea. My great-aunt has been married five times and the one thing she’s always believed is that you can’t spend time weeping over a man. If one’s gone, another will come. They’re not worth the tears and puffy eyes.
Benjamin is her dentist, he’s thirty-five, very handsome, never married, but has come close.
As I listen to Benjamin talk about his profession, I have a clear understanding why someone might consider me boring.
It’s not that the only thing I talk about is hockey, it’s the subject I know most about because it’s been such a big focus of my life.
My point is, Benjamin only talks about teeth.
But I know nothing about teeth, so I’m bored out of my mind.
I can’t say anything because I don’t want to be rude, and I feel like this is punishment for those times when I might have unknowingly bored someone to tears by talking about hockey and the importance of women in sports.
“Now, plaque, plaque is very interesting,” Benjamin pauses and looks at me. “Do you floss?”
“I tell my dentist I do,” I joke.
Benjamin blinks and doesn’t laugh. I take a deep breath and finger my napkin. At least the restaurant is gorgeous, stone arches, wood paneling, and soft lights. Everyone around us is having a good time and the food is delicious.
“Uh, yes, I floss. Every day.”
I pick up my lemon drop and take a sip. For the record, dinner as a first date is a bad idea.
It’s a rookie mistake. Also, for the record, never let your great-aunt make the reservations for you.
The best part of this date was when Benjamin went to the restroom, and I texted Roman.
Which is saying a lot because it wasn’t a thrilling conversation.
“You were talking about plaque?” I urge.
Benjamin clears his throat. “If you’ll excuse me a minute?”
“Of course,” I say, feeling confused.
He gets up and walks to the restroom again. How much water did he drink in a day? My phone rings and I quickly grab it from my bag.
“How’s it going?” Jules asks. “Need me to fake an emergency yet?”
“He’s talking about plaque,” I say.
“Eugh!”
“Exactly. He’s in the restroom now and this is his third trip.” Come to think of it, he hasn’t taken a sip of water since we sat down.
“He’s either doing drugs or he’s trying to get in touch with his emergency contact,” Jules says.
“He’s a doctor, I don’t think he’s doing drugs.”
“He’s a dentist,” Jules corrects. “I don’t trust dentists. Why would anyone want to join a profession which has a biting risk?”
I startle when someone takes a seat across from me. Looking up, I expect to see Benjamin and I’m readying a lie as to why I’m on the phone. Instead, my eyes meet thickly lashed hazel ones.
“Roman,” I breathe.
“Roman?” Jules echoes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“What is he doing there?” Jules says.
I blink to clear my vision because for a second, I think I conjured him. But no, he’s really here. Sitting across from me. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt that’s rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms. His hair is wet, as if he came here directly after taking a shower.
“Lavinia. What a surprise,” Roman says.
“Can you keep the phone connected so I can listen in?” Jules asks.
“Juliet, I will reenact the whole thing for you later.”
“Fine!”
I hang up and lean across the table to whisper-yell at Roman. There’s two days old scruff on his jaw that I find extremely distracting. I have the inexplicable urge to run my teeth along his jaw.
“What are you doing here?”
His hazel eyes burn bright. “Saving you from Mr. Plaque.”
“I don’t need saving,” I say. “And you need to leave. You’re disrupting my date.”
“You don’t want to be here with this man,” Roman says confidently. The nerve of him. He’s been texting me for eight months and ignoring me in person and now he thinks he can show up to my date and I’ll play along with him.
Over his shoulder, I see Benjamin walking to the table.
“You have to leave,” I hiss. “Benjamin is coming back.”
Before Roman can reply, Benjamin is standing next to the table, looking curiously between Roman and me. My face heats as I look up at him. This is beyond embarrassing.
“Benjamin, Roman is an old friend. He was having dinner here and stopped to say hello, but he’s leaving now.” I look pointedly at Roman, gesturing with my eyes for him to leave so I can get back to my date.
I might not be enjoying it, that doesn’t mean I’m going to give in to Roman because he’s suddenly decided he wants me or whatever the hell he’s doing here.
“Actually, he can stay,” Benjamin says. “I’ve been called in for an emergency. I already settled the bill.” He pushes up his glasses and looks at Roman for a second before turning back to me. “I was hoping I could get a redo. I promise I won’t talk about plaque.”
I smile up at him. He’s handsome and he’s sweet; I’m definitely on board with that.
“That would be?—”
“Not possible,” Roman says.
I glare at him, and he smiles at me sweetly. Oh, he makes me so angry. Angrier than even Josh did when he left me on our wedding day. At least he came out and told me how he felt instead of stringing me along for eight months.
“He doesn’t speak for me,” I tell Benjamin, standing up. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
Leaning in, I give him a kiss on the cheek and wish him a good night. Once he’s gone, I pick up my purse and jacket and walk out. I pull up the ride share app on my phone.
“Where are you going?” Roman asks.
I ignore him and order myself a ride. It shows a car is five minutes away. I pull on my jacket while I wait.
“Are you really going to ignore me?”
I look over my shoulder, throwing him my best death glare. At least he has the decency to look contrite. “I don’t believe in rewarding bad behaviour. Do you know what it leads to?”
He sighs. “More bad behaviour.”
I look away, crossing my arms over my chest. Five minutes feel like a million minutes right now. I sense Roman step up next to me, his hand gently brushing my elbow.
“I’m sorry I overreacted and showed up on your date like a jealous idiot,” Roman says.
I glance at him. In my heels, we’re practically the same height and I like that right now, I don’t have to look up at him. I don’t say anything, waiting for him to add to that. I already know he’s a jealous idiot.
He runs a hand through his hair and the mess he makes of it makes him even more handsome. When he doesn’t say anything, I look at my phone to check how far my ride is.
“My ride will be here in two minutes,” I say.
“You look beautiful.”
I’m wearing a magenta dress with asymmetrical hemline, so it’s longer in the back than the front. It’s a good thing the temperature hasn’t dropped yet, though the nights are starting to get chilly.
“What the hell were you doing on a date with this guy, anyway? You can do so much better,” Roman says.
“Well, if you say he’s not good enough for me then it must be true,” I say. I see a car coming up with a license plate that matches the one on my app. “My ride’s here.”
I don’t ask Roman to join me and I don’t stop him either when he gets in the car with me. Oh no, maybe I am rewarding bad behaviour. I can’t help it, I’m curious to hear what all he has to say, even though he’s somehow made himself the authority on what’s good for me.
“You’re upset,” Roman says.
“Your knack for stating the obvious is astounding.”
My phone chimes with a text from Jules. I tilt my body way from Roman so he can’t see my phone.
Jules
Is he still there????
Lavinia
He’s in the ride share car with me right now.
Jules
Is he finally admitting he wants you?????
I low key love how many question marks she’s using. I picture her curled over the kitchen counter with a pint of ice cream next to her as she tries to get all the tea.
Lavinia
NO!
Jules
What’s taking so long???
“What can I say to make this better?” Roman asks.
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and I get the sense that he will tell me everything if I guide him in the right direction.
Leading the horse to the water and what not.
I must do the heavy lifting here and I’m willing to do that only because I know Roman’s never been in a relationship.
Lavinia
Hang on. We might be getting somewhere.
Turning back to Roman, I finally look at him. His face is in shadows, and I only see him clearly when we pass under a streetlight or when a passing car’s headlights flood the interior of the car.
“Why did you show up to my date tonight? And don’t tell me it’s because Benjamin doesn’t deserve me. You met him for two seconds.”
“I’m a very discerning judge of character,” Roman protests. “I don’t think you should go on a second date with him.”
The car comes to a stop at my destination. “I think you should keep your opinions about my personal life to yourself.”
Opening the door, I step out of the car and adjust my dress. I make sure to enter a custom tip amount for the driver for having to put up with our drama.
“Lavinia, the guy was talking about plaque,” Roman says. “He’s not exactly the conversationalist of the year.”
“Benjamin—”
“You don’t have to keep saying his name.”
“Well, that’s his name.”
I walk into Michel’s Bakery and Cafe, which thankfully is still open and since my date ended early, I have the time to run errands. It’s not like I have other plans tonight other than going home and watching reruns of How It’s Made . I stand at the end of the line.
“I hate the sound of another man’s name from your lips,” Roman whispers, stepping up behind me. He settles a hand on my waist, heat from his palm seeping through the material of my dress. The weight of his hand is heavy on my body and he’s close enough that his chest presses against my back.
“Why?” I whisper.