Chapter 6
Lorna
Snow falls outside as I sit across from my best friend at Mermaid Tears Wine Bar on Main Street.
"Really? He said he was a virgin?" Ada says.
"So you didn't know?"
"He's Frederick's friend and work partner, but it's not like my husband tells me all of his secrets," she says, sipping the glass of syrah in front of her.
"I was just so shocked when he told me. He's so incredibly hot! I just didn't expect it." Letting out a sigh, I add, "And I think I kind of acted like an asshole."
"I seriously doubt that."
"Well, I don't think I acted as gracefully as I should have. He looked kind of hurt by my reaction."
We sit there for a beat, then I say, "I just don't get how someone so good-looking would be a virgin at almost 50."
"Well, I do know he has his purple heart. And I know that he was only in the Army for maybe a few years? So he obviously was injured in some sort of enemy combat situation," she says, looking out the window at the snow.
"Shit. Now I feel worse."
I motion for the sommelier to bring me another glass of syrah.
"Well, okay. You said the kiss was amazing. Right?"
When I nod, Ada says, "So then get over it. So what if he's a virgin? He's an awesome guy. I've always really liked him a lot."
The sommelier switches out my empty glass for a beautifully poured one, and I take a large sip.
"He does seem like a really great guy," I say with a sigh.
"At least go on a date with him. Then you'll know if he's someone you want to continue to get to know. And if he is, then the virgin thing is just something that won't last forever," Ada quips, giving me a wicked grin.
Laughing, I shake my head and take another sip of wine.
I walk into the ice cream shop right before it closes on Saturday. The smell of hot cocoa greets my nose. Frederick is helping a group of teenagers at one end of the counter, but Mischa is wiping down the tables. I swear I see his cheeks redden when he catches sight of me.
"Hey, Mischa."
"Hey," he says with a hint of chill in his tone.
"I'm sorry if I reacted to your news, your uh, information the other day poorly in a way that made you feel bad."
"Thanks," he says flatly.
"You had mentioned wanting to maybe go out sometime?" I say, my nerve faltering.
"Well, I did," he says as he bends down to wipe the table again. "But I don't think it's such a good idea anymore. You did kind of insult me, and I am who I am. So, probably not a good idea."
"Oh, okay. Bye." I barely whisper before turning on my heel and bolting out of the ice cream shop.
I knew I fucked this up.
Once home, I eat a quick dinner before heading into my glassblowing studio. At the very least, I need to finish this piece for him. It's already a week before Christmas. And even though he said he didn't care, I really wanted to get it to him before the holiday. I work into the night finishing it.
By one in the morning, although I should go to bed, I have the urge to make him an apology gift. I work until dawn peeks out over the horizon. Finally finished, I shuffle back home.
Sticky from sweat, I take a two-minute shower before collapsing into my bed and passing out for the rest of the morning.