Chapter 1 #2
“We were so happy.” He held his phone out, pointing at a new photo. “This is us in Galveston. We had such a good time. We went to the aquarium, and you would not believe what we saw.”
He told me in minute detail what they’d seen while he flicked through photos on his phone, occasionally stopping to sob softly into his hand. I thought engineers were supposed to be stoic and unemotional.
I tried to get my brain to stay focused. Be in the present, my therapist Sunny liked to remind me. Bet Sunny had never been on a date with Curtis.
My eyes wandered to the wall mural of a mariachi band. Across the room, several sombreros in varying sizes hung from the wall. That warm terra-cotta color on the walls might be nice in the bathroom at home. We needed to get rid of the pink?—
My phone vibrated, interrupting my thoughts.
Curt kept on talking and sobbing as though he hadn’t noticed.
As discreetly as I could, I glanced at the screen to see it was the attorney I’d met with this morning.
Maybe he’d forgotten to tell me something?
I’d deal with it later. With a shrug, I sent the call to voicemail and flipped it over so I couldn’t see the screen.
Pasting on what I hoped was a sympathetic expression, I took a sip of water, nodded, made encouraging noises, and tried very hard to focus on Curtis, but my mind kept replaying the moment the attorney had said, “It’s all yours.”
I hadn’t expected it. It had been six months since Ollie’s passing. With the attorney working out everything on the legal side, I’d been allowed to stay in the house and keep the café going. So, I had, the whole time wondering and worrying where Oliver and I would be in a few months’ time.
Resisting the urge to fidget in my seat, I studied the room.
Since I was an early riser (hello, 4a.m.) and had a six-year-old to get into bed at a decent hour, I always asked to meet up at the very sexy and date-like hour of 5p.m. On a Friday, this always made for an interesting mix of people out for dinner.
Four tables over, a man wrangled three kids into their seats. One of the kids, maybe two years old, was standing on his chair and waving a butter knife around like a sword. Divorced dad weekend, I’d bet.
At one of the booths, an older couple chatted quietly.
They’d looked as though they’d been together so long, they were starting to resemble each other.
Behind them sat a man and woman who looked barely legal making mooneyes over a plate of fajitas.
He had that slightly dirty, messy-haired, tattooed look going on, a look that would have had me salivating ten years ago.
But it was the man sitting at the table closest to us I wondered about the most. He was alone, half of a burrito on a plate he’d pushed aside.
Although he was facing me, his head of dark hair was bowed as he typed something on his phone.
With his blue button-down and red tie, he looked like he’d just gotten off work.
Maybe he was meeting someone. A girlfriend.
A wife. An old college roommate. A mafia boss. The possibilities were endless.
Frowning, he leaned back and slid the phone across the table.
I caught a glimpse of dark-rimmed glasses as he tilted his face up to the ceiling in an Any time now, God sort of way.
A zing of awareness, a recognition of a kindred spirit traveled down my spine.
I understood that feeling. A kind of hopelessness that settles in your bones when you aren’t sure what to do next. I’d been there before.
I wondered what color his eyes were. Look over here. Pretty please.
And suddenly, he did. Our gazes caught and both of us froze for a beat, then two. He didn’t smile or soften his face, but he tipped his head in acknowledgement. Maybe he could feel it too.
“…and then she said she was taking that job in Colorado and…” Curtis’s sob brought me back to reality. A reality I would rather not have, if I was being honest.
I had no idea what he was going on about now. Something about the ex and a job in Colorado and how his world had ended. Maybe I should have cancelled. My heart wasn’t in it and my brain was making plans and sticky notes at Ollie’s house—er, my house —right now. Focus, Ellie.
I made an encouraging sound at the back of my throat and patted Curtis’s arm.
Liliana came toward our table, probably to take our order.
I met her eyes and shook my head. There was no way I was going to make it through an appetizer, let alone a whole meal, with this man.
She nodded in such a way that communicated I told you so without saying a word. I hoped talent like that came with age.
With a wave of her fingers, she turned and headed to the table with the dad and kids. He’d managed to get two kids in their seat, but the “sword wielder” was now under the table eating a tortilla chip he’d found on the floor.
“Then she waved goodbye, and I watched her drive away.” Curtis paused and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt like a six-year-old.
Actually no. That was disrespectful to six-year-olds everywhere.
Oliver was six. He would never …Although Oliver was really a forty-six-year-old accountant on the inside.
There were a lot of things he wouldn’t do that other kids his age would.
I loved that kid and his ability to use a tissue. Loved that so much for both of us.
“Here.” A handful of tissues was waved in Curt’s general direction.
“Thank you.” Curtis took the tissues without looking up and blew his nose. Loudly.
“Yes, thank you,” I said. “That was so kind of you…”
But my voice trailed off when I looked up at the bearer of such good and practical gifts.
It was him. The man from the next table.
He met my eyes steadily. He had a serious sort of face, like it wasn’t quite used to smiling.
But it was a nice face, an interesting face.
A strong jawline with the faintest dusting of dark hair, a dimple in his chin which seemed almost fanciful, the smallest touch of gray at his temples even though he didn’t look much older than me.
And his eyes behind those glasses? They were dark and intense and yet, there was a kindness there.
I smiled slowly; he nodded once in acknowledgement. “No problem.”
When he walked away, a wave of sadness hit me. I wanted to know his name and now I never would.
“Do you think that’s a good plan?” My attention jerked back to Curtis. His eyes were still glassy with tears but there was excitement in his voice.
“Plan?”
“Yes. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
I had no clue what he was talking about, but he was looking at me with such big puppy dog eyes full of expectation and hope. “Um…sure?”
“It is, isn’t it? I’m going to do it.” Curtis stood, mindless of the balled-up tissues that cascaded to the ground. He whipped out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. “Dinner is still on me but if I leave now, I can catch the next flight to Denver.”
“Denver?”
He grabbed my hand and shook it. “I’m going to go tell Shelly how I feel about her.”
“Who’s Shelly?”
“My ex. The love of my life.” He leaned down and placed a loud, smacking kiss on my cheek. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for being so understanding.” That last part he said over his shoulder as he broke into a run toward the exit.
Several pairs of eyes swung my way. Even the dad who was now also under the table and trying with increasing desperation to get his kid to listen. I smiled weakly and waved. “He had an emergency.”
Yeah. No one believed that.
Three minutes later, Liliana swept in and placed a heaping plate of enchiladas verdes in front of me. “I told you, mija , he was no good. Un tonto . A fool.”
“You think?” My stomach rumbled. The real reason I liked my first dates to be at the Texican? When that date inevitably crashed and burned in spectacular fashion, at least I knew I’d get a good meal out of it.
Liliana dipped closer and lowered her voice. “The right man will be one who sees your value, who knows you are precious. He will see every part of you and love each part, even the things he doesn’t like.” She patted my shoulder. “This is a smart man.”
My chest tightened. “Yeah, maybe.”
And the thing was…I wanted that. I wanted a man who loved me for me. Someone unlike the guys I’d been with in the past. Oh, I’d loved them or thought I did, but they hadn’t loved me. I’d made it all too easy for them. Falling hard and fast; the endings had been just as hard and fast.
We all wanted to believe there was someone out there for each of us, a lid for every pot and all that. But sometimes I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the odd one out. Three years of loneliness could do that to a woman.
But maybe that’s just how it was meant to be.