17. Diana
I wear the nicest thing I brought with me: the red top and midi-skirt combo I wore to Barbara’s wedding. It’s not overtly sexy, but the silky tank shows a bit of skin and the soft satin clings gently to my curves. It’s light and airy and perfect for a summer’s night. At least I hope.
It’s my first first date in over ten years and to say I’m freaking out is an understatement—though not for the same reasons I would’ve freaked out all those years ago. This time, it isn’t just about the nerves of going out with a new guy, but about a million other things, too.
For one, I’m not too happy about leaving Cami and Emi with a new babysitter—even if said babysitter is Catterina, Liza’s mom.
But I couldn’t ask Michael to watch my girls tonight.
I mean, after everything that happened between us, how was I supposed to ask him to take them for the night while I go on a date with another guy?
But when Barbara called for our weekly check-in, and I mentioned getting asked out, she suggested her (even without me having mentioned what happened between me and Michael).
“She practically raised me, so she’s had experience with kids with chronic conditions.
There was more than one instance she had to take care of me post-seizure when my parents just…
wouldn’t. Sure, she’s in her sixties now, but she’s still very physically agile, and is an experienced mother and grandmother.
She’ll be able to take care of the girls and monitor Emi all through the night, I promise.
You just need to give her clear instructions. ”
“And you think she’d do it? I don’t even know her. I’ve only met her that one time.”
“Yeah, but you and Liza have sort of become friends, right?”
“I mean, I’d say we’re friendly, but it’s not like we’ve gotten to the ‘spilling life secrets’ part of our relationship.”
Liza and I have hung out since the Fourth of July weekend; we went out for lunch with our kids last weekend and had gotten to know each other better.
It had been amazing having someone to talk to who wasn’t Michael, to be honest. Barbara and I had grown quite close over the weeks during our weekly conversations and occasional texting, and I was in constant communication with Rosie, but there was no question that I’ve been in desperate need of some in-person girl talk.
I just wasn’t quite sure whether our relationship was there yet.
“Regardless, Catterina is, like, the best person in the world. She’ll do it—especially if I ask.
” I could practically hear Barbara’s excitement for me on the other end of the phone, and it was damn contagious.
Suddenly, the paralyzing nerves I felt whenever I thought about the date weren’t as paralyzing. Just a bit debilitating.
So when Jonathan picks me up in his green Range Rover, I’m not too nervous to leave the girls with her, a woman who’s had experience in following medical instructions and taking care of children with chronic conditions.
She puts her hands on my shoulders, and offers a comforting, “I’ll take care of your girls. Enjoy your night—you deserve it.”
And with that, I step out into the driveway in the only pair of high-heeled sandals I own.
“Hey,” Jonathan whispers, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.
The gesture shocks me, my cheeks turning a blazing red. Did he seriously just do that? I want to cringe, but I stop myself just in time.
“You look so beautiful.”
My stomach tightens, but not in the same way it does whenever Michael smiles at me, or even whenever I remember the kisses we shared just outside by the pool, right beneath the stars.
As soon as the thought of Michael pops into my head, I shake it. This whole night is supposed to be about not thinking about him. It’s supposed to be about having fun with someone else.
“Um, thank you. You look good, too,” I say, my voice barely audible over the sound of my beating heart.
He does look good. He looks incredible, actually.
Even though it’s close to a million degrees out, Jonathan looks perfectly comfortable and absolutely delicious in a full suit.
Even through his clothes, I can tell he’s athletic—there’s no doubt in my mind that a shirtless Jonathan would be a sight for sore eyes.
But it does nothing for me. Not when the physical pull Michael has over me has grown exponentially since first meeting him.
God, will it always be like this?
Jonathan chuckles softly once and runs his fingers through his unaffected-by-the-sauna-like-humidity hair. “Thanks. I drove directly from work.”
“But… it’s a Saturday.”
He shrugs, and with a hand on my lower back, leads me to the passenger door. Holding it open for me, he says, “I normally work a bit on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and since I’ll be spending the night in town, and not working tomorrow, I wanted to catch up on a few things.”
“Gotcha.” I settle into my seat, and he shuts the door.
Before starting the car, he turns in his seat to look at me.
“I just want to make sure that you know that I’m trying to kick the workaholic habit.
If I had a relationship,” he shakes his head, “I wouldn’t risk it over work.
I’m done with that life. I don’t mean to come off too strong, but I’m ready to get into a serious relationship. ”
I stare, wide-eyed at him, utterly and completely speechless.
So I guess the whole casual thing with him is out the window, huh?
“Oh.” Because what else am I going to say?
Now certainly isn’t the time to tell him I want the complete opposite of that.
He drove all the way out here for this dinner, and now I’m just going to send him packing?
God, I am a horrible person. I should tell him to stop, should tell him we aren’t on the same page.
But then he pulls out of the driveway with a small smile playing at his lips, and I decide to go along for the ride for the rest of the night. I did go through all the trouble of setting up someone to babysit the girls, after all. And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up being the love of my life.
But I grimace as something knocks the air out of me, because now that the word “relationship” comes to the forefront of my mind, that I let myself play around with the idea of one, it isn’t his face that pops in my head. It’s someone else’s.
The sun is low in the sky, casting a perfect warm ombre light over the road, the beauty of it mesmerizing me to distraction. But as the homes around us turn into long stretches of land and farms after a few minutes of driving, I’m pulled from my trance.
“In retrospect, I probably should’ve asked you this already, but where are you taking me? Because—and I hope you take no offense to this—it kind of looks like you’re taking me to some farm in the middle of nowhere to murder and bury me, never to be found again.”
He snorts once, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “I’m not going to kill you—don’t worry.”
“I mean, that’s probably what a killer would say, but okay. It’s just, this doesn’t necessarily look like a neighborhood where you’d find a lot of restaurants. I just want to remind you I have two daughters who will lose the only capable parent in their lives if you do kill me, so…”
This makes Jonathan laugh. “I’m taking you to dinner, but it isn’t to a restaurant.”
“Oh?”
“I have this friend who’s a chef and is looking for investors for the new restaurant he’s trying to open out here.”
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
NO.
“You have a chef friend?” My voice comes out high-pitched, no graver than a mouse’s.
“Yeah. We used to be buddies when he lived back in the city, but he had to move out here some time ago, and now… Well, I won’t get into too many details.
But anyway, he’s rebuilding his life, and asked me to invest in his restaurant.
Michael—that’s his name—is bleeding money, and doesn’t have enough to get a brick and mortar no matter how many side jobs he’s been pulling. ”
Michael’s bleeding money? I didn’t know he was having a hard time opening his restaurant. He never mentioned it. Or maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own thing to even realize it.
I really am the worst.
“I automatically agreed to invest, obviously—he’s super talented, only he’s had a bout of bad luck—but he insisted on having a trial dinner anyways. Since I knew he was gonna make a huge deal and pull out the stops, I thought it might be a good idea to take you with me.”
I attempt to swallow the knot that’s formed in my throat, but it won’t budge.
This is too much of a coincidence. This is…
This is… torture. I cannot go on a date with Jonathan at Michael’s farm—especially not when it’s also a business meeting.
And especially not when I’ve been avoiding him after the hot make-out session we had. There’s just no way.
I consider faking an illness or something—though with the sudden onset nausea I feel, I’m pretty sure there won’t be much to fake soon—but when Jonathan flicks his blinker on and turns onto a dirt road, I realize I’m too late.
I’m having dinner at Michael’s farm with my date.
And I have a feeling it is not going to go well.
The sound of Jonathan pulling the parking brake simultaneously sends shivers down my spine and makes me jump in my seat.
Because standing on the porch of a beautiful red barn, which itself stands in front of acres of farmland, is Michael.
In the fading sun, it’s difficult to see his eyes, but there’s no missing the way his expression changes when he realizes that the date his friend—and possible investor—brought to this dinner is the woman he kissed just a few days ago.
“Michael. Hey.” Jonathan steps out of the car to greet his friend, hugging and slapping each other’s backs in that weird way men do.
Over Jonathan’s shoulder, Michael shoots me a look that could burn down entire empires.
“Shit,” I murmur.
“Diana, come here,” Jonathan waves me over with a warm smile. “Come meet my friend.”
My body decides now is really not the time to move, actually.
It would rather remain seated in the comfort of this luxury SUV, thank you very much.
But I guess Jonathan has other ideas because, like the gentleman that he is, he offers his hand for me to take.
I look at it, and then at Michael—Michael, who looks like he would bite off Jonathan’s hand off in a heartbeat.
This is not good. Not good at all. For anyone.
“I… I’m okay, thank you so much.”
With a quizzical brow, Jonathan nods and pulls his hand away, giving me space.
For a split second, I consider pretending like Michael and I don’t know each other, sure he’d play along.
He needs Jonathan’s money at the end of the day, right?
So why wouldn’t he? But then I think back to all those romance movies where the main characters play the same game, pretending they have nothing to do with each other, and all hell breaks loose.
Every time, I’m left frustrated for the entire movie wondering why they couldn’t be grown-ups and just tell the truth.
So I do: “Michael and I actually know each other already.”
“You do?” Jonathan asks, thrilled by this information.
“Yes. Um, our girls go to day camp together.”
Michael’s eyes flash, his hands fisting at his sides, lips pressed together into a thin line.
I thank god Jonathan’s back is to him, because there’s no denying that, if I really were to be murdered tonight, it would be by Michael.
I begin to wonder whether maybe it might’ve been better to just deny his existence at this point.
“Fantastic! Have you tried his food then? If not, you’re in for a real treat.”
“Yes, he’s great,” I tell him. “You’re great, Michael.” I clear my throat.
Michael laughs once, humorlessly, and nods like a madman.
“Right. Fucking fantastic. Well,” he says, clapping his hands.
“Let me show you guys what I have in store for your romantic dinner tonight.” He spits the words out like they’re the most disgusting things he’s ever had to say, leading the way into the barn’s makeshift dining room.
When he dips into the kitchen after seating us at a set table for two, I do everything I can to avoid Jonathan’s gaze. And because he didn’t become a self-made billionaire by being an idiot, he clears his throat once and asks, “So I’m assuming you guys dated at some point?”
“Um,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Not exactly, no. But also, not no?” I chuckle awkwardly, praying we’re all evolved enough to get through the night. “We’ve never dated but… There might’ve been a thing.”
Jonathan nods thoughtfully.
“If this is too much, if it’s too uncomfortable for you or Michael…
Maybe you should drop me off at home. I don’t want to risk this opportunity for him.
He… He definitely deserves the chance to be able to launch his new restaurant.
I’ve already messed up by showing up with another man; I don’t want to ruin his night by inadvertently causing more conflict and ruining his chances at making his dreams come true.
I already know how much this means to him and all the hard work he’s put into it. ”
Jonathan stares at me, silent. “You care about him,” he says finally.
“I—” I can’t help the way my voice catches, the stinging in my eyes, or the knot in my throat that hasn’t gone away all night.
“You do.” His voice is softer now, eyes kind. And that’s all he’s ever been with me—kind, patient, understanding. “I think, perhaps, you might be on the wrong date, Diana.” He smiles, taking the bottle of champagne from the bucket beside the table and fills both our glasses.
“Maybe,” I admit.
Jonathan laughs, surprising me. “You look terrible.”
I sniff once. “I feel terrible.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re such a good guy, and I’m—”
“Here,” he says, taking both glasses and passing one to me.
“Let’s toast to our new friendship—nothing more.
And then I think you should probably get up and go talk to him.
I’ve known Michael for a while, and I have never seen that reaction out of him.
Never seen him look at another woman like that. ”
This makes me laugh, a little awkward, wet and sniffling. We cheers once, just like he says. The champagne is crisp and cold and just what I need to scrounge up enough courage to talk to Michael when Jonathan says, “Go to him.”