ONE DATE
It didn’t work for me, but that doesn’t mean love isn’t real.
~ Hazel Beesley
Hunter
WILLOW RUSHED OUTSIDE the elevator. I chose to go back upstairs. Hazel just received the final documents of her divorce. She called it a contract to her receptionist, but the woman seemed to care. I saw the gaze between the two of them. Willow was giving her the same worried glance my brothers and I give to each other when shit is hitting the fan. Hazel looks calm—she’s pushing her sadness away. She’s dealing well with the circumstances, but she needs a friend—her family. I should offer my support, reminding her that Fitz and I are here for her. As a lawyer, I focus on real estate transactions. My job is usually easy. Except when I work on the pro bono cases, or I happen to help a friend. Family practice is a fucking heartbreaking wreck. I’ve seen couples shred each other to pieces.
Stepping out of the elevator, I see Hazel staring at the closed folder.
“Are you okay?”
She doesn’t move, only mumbles a quiet, “yes.” At least, that’s what I think she did. She closes her eyes and takes three deep breaths before opening them back up. Then, lifts her chin and pushes the folder toward me. “I signed them. You can send them back to his lawyer so they can finalize it.”
“That was fast.”
She taps her foot, crossing her arms. “I would’ve done it earlier, but Willow was here. I don’t want her to make a big deal out of it.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.” Her lips press tight.
“I wish you could tell me more. I’ve known you for years and you just confided that you had been married.” I sigh. “Because you needed a divorce.”
“There’s nothing much. I was too young when it happened.” Her eyes are watery, her shoulders slumping. “Eighteen years old. Who says, ‘I do’ at that age?” she cackles. “Only two stupid, horny teenagers who didn’t have a clue about adulthood.”
The sadness etched in her expression never leaves, but she smiles. “Next time I’ll get it right.”
Next time? This marriage, the divorce, the reasons aren’t clear to me. She never explained the entire story, but if she’s moving on, I will, too. “I don’t want to sound insensitive, but your receptionist—”
Her eyes start changing, into an easy gaze. The heaviness lifting with a smirk.
“I was hoping you’d go with her and invite her to lunch.”
“Why?”
“She could use a guy like you,” Hazel enlightens me, but not as much as I wish. She is smiling at me as she rubs her chin. “You’re one of the good guys.”
I give her a dazed look, picking up the folder. “Are you playing cupid with Willow and me?” She bobs her head. “After what happened to you?”
From all the divorces I’ve handled, this is the strangest of them all. There are no bitter, hateful words slammed from either party. The anger is either hidden, or it dissipated long ago. She set aside the pain and is ready to set me up with the cute girl who works for her.
“It didn’t work for me, but that doesn’t mean love isn’t real.” She scrunches her nose, rising from her seat. Her finger swirling around the room the way she always does. “There was an energy around when you arrived. Something might happen between the two of you—if you’re smart, and treat her the way she deserves.”
She’s right. I remember the sparks I felt the night I met Willow when she handed me the money. The need to protect her that grew inside of me when I noticed those tears . . .”Love at first sight?” Hazel is crazy. Is it wise to trust in a sudden spark? “How can you believe in it?”
“When two people are meant to be together, things just work out that way. I still believe in love.” Her eyes fill with moisture. “I believe in deep kisses, and unpredicted adventures. I believe in the impossible, and that the best rewards come after you worked hard to obtain them. Willow needs to experience them.”
The sudden excitement in her words has me thinking about facing everything she mentions and more—with Willow.
“Would you help me?” I ask, feeling as if she has the key to open Willow’s heart.
She shakes her head, laughing. “Nope. Your first and only tip is: work your way around her walls. My sister isn’t easy.”
“Sister?” The sound of the elevator announcing its arrival stops me from asking or saying anything else. “That’s your older sister. The one who is always missing in action.” My brothers and I met Hazel when she came to live with her grandfather who is a family friend. She’s outgoing, fun, and felt like family from the beginning. She’s talked about her older sister several times, but up until now, we have never seen her.
“I don’t think sugar is the answer to your mood, Bee,” Willow says, placing a salad on top of the desk. Studying both, I see the similarities. The button nose above a delicately formed mouth, and big, round eyes. Willow’s are a perfect emerald green that contrast with her dark, long hair. “I brought you something healthier.”
“You’re right,” Hazel acknowledges, checking her watch. “I’m not even hungry, and I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
With that, she disappears behind the sliding doors.
“It’s worse than I thought.” Willow huffs, turning her attention to me. “You, you made her laugh. Maybe you can invite her out and show her not all men are assholes.”
I laugh, not believing what I just heard. The perfect opening to invite her out on a date. Extra points to her for believing I’m not an asshole. “I’m your man. What do you want me to do?”
Willow frowns, staring at me. “Pick me up at six tonight. You might be what she needs.”
“It’s a date.” I wink at her, turn around, and call the elevator.
“How did you decide you wanted to be an actress?”
Willow agreed to have dinner with me at a hole-in-the-wall in Brooklyn.
“Karina is her name. I loved dressing up, singing, becoming someone entirely different for a few hours.” Her eyes shine as she continues telling me about her babysitter. A woman who lived next door, had five children of her own, and made extra money by caring for Willow and Hazel. “She had a vibrant personality that kept us occupied. She came up with different ideas. Like playing hand puppets, dancing along to musicals. I fell in love with musicals.”
We talk about her life after graduating high school. She moved from Santa Cruz, a town close to San Francisco, to New York where she studied theater at Julliard. She had to quit because her father couldn’t afford the tuition.
“My grandfather offered to pay if I studied a sensible career and went to Duke, his alma mater.” She drinks from her beer, laughing. “Instead, I began working as a waitress and auditioning for plays. It sounded logical in my head. Not many actors have gone to college. I should’ve listened to him. At least, I’d have money to support myself.”
I’m gawking at her as she eats her pizza. Thinking about that mouth and the things I could do to it. I want to taste all of her. I imagine her tasting like a little piece of paradise since she smells like white, sandy beaches—coconut mixed with pineapple and a hint of honey.
“So how did you meet Hazel?”
I lift my gaze to meet her eyes, surprised that she didn’t know. “We met when she arrived from Santa Cruz. I’d see her when I visited your grandfather’s office. Fitz, one of my brothers, invited her to hang out with me and my brothers. The rest is history.”
“Tell me, how are you planning on sweeping Hazel off her feet?” The images of Willow laying on the sand wearing nothing but a black bikini and a broad smile washes away. “She can be your next long-term relationship. She likes those, too.”
“Are you sure you want to talk about your sister?” Willow’s eyes grow bigger, her face turns slightly red. Analyzing her previous words, I continue, “How do you know I like long-term relationships?”
“Before leaving work, she told me.” Willow smiles, the tips of her lips aren’t reaching high enough. “Unlike me, she likes stability.”
Think fast; this is useful information, Hunter. “Must be an older sibling thing,” I point out casually, searching for common ground. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six, almost twenty-seven.” She stares at me, waiting for something, but I only stare back. We can do this all night. I have three older brothers, and I can stay quiet for eons without blinking. “You’re a monogamist. Dating girls who are always using you.”
“Who do you date?” I dare her, trying to find that soft spot to penetrate the wall.
“No one, two years without a single date—or a man at all.” Her face illuminates. “I’m focused on my work. Well, you know, the few auditions I get and the roles I land if I do my job right.”
“Do you like being alone?” because I don’t. I swallow, thinking if accepting it makes me weak or different.
Harrison, my oldest brother and the one who doesn’t mock me as often, says we’re all different. That if Mom were alive, she’d be proud of the man I became. Proud of the way I treat women, even when I choose my partners poorly. I think he understands my eccentricities better than Scott or Fitz. We both have obsessions many can’t grasp or know exist. I try to hide mine as much as possible. Clutching onto an idea and picking a woman isn’t healthy when I only find the wrong ones. Still, I won’t stop until I find the right one. I saw my parents happy with each other, loving every second they spent together. They left this world together.
“I’ve been alone for years.” She smiles. “In charge of my sister since she was a toddler. It’s a long story I’d prefer not to explain.”
Hazel and I’ve been friends since she moved from California. She’s mentioned her parents which means, they aren’t dead like mine. “Your parents?”
“They’re missionaries. They’ve been traveling the world since I was a kid.” There’s no pride in her voice. Actually, there’s some resentment linked into that statement. “The point is, I don’t understand how you can expect so much from another person. Company, loyalty, love.”
Her words are daggers sent to whoever wants to climb the wall. A part of me wishes to erase the hurt inside her heart; the other wants to walk away from her. My mind tells me she’s not going to accept or like who I am once she gets to know me. I won’t apologize for any of it. This is who I am and what I like.
“There are billions of people. Surely there’s one who will understand you the way you are,” I respond, instead of pushing away the chair, throwing a couple of twenties on the table and leaving her behind. Mom raised me better. “You said it earlier, not every man is an asshole.”
“Okay, so I found one, and he’s going to date my sister.” Her mouth snaps shut as her eyes grow two sizes bigger. Her face turns red.
Embarrassment has never looked this cute and felt so good. My heart accelerates as I repeat her words inside my head.
“What if he doesn’t want to date your sister?” I hint, then decide to be straightforward. We are not playing games. “Willow, since the moment we crossed paths last week, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I want to get to know you. Learn what you like, why you laugh, and how you drink your coffee every morning.”
Her hands curl around the paper napkin, those green eyes staring at it. “You don’t want that. I’m nothing special. A bankrupt wannabe with big dreams and nothing to her name.”
I place a finger on top of her beautiful lips, then slide it gently raising her chin, so our eyes meet. “Please, don’t do that. Think about the time you’re investing into reaching your dream, the sacrifices. You’re worth more than you think.”
I cup her chin with my hand, caressing her cheek with my thumb. She closes her eyes leaning on me for a few breaths. A warmth runs through my veins as I feel her walls lowering. Not breaking, but at least I have a second chance to see the beautiful woman behind the iron screen. “Give us a chance to get to know each other. We can push our own boundaries and find what the other is missing.”
“Are you willing to have a one-night stand?” Willow laughs. The sound is like the Siren’s voice hypnotizing me, inviting me to her lair.
“No,” I respond honestly. This might be everything to us or ruin what we could be. “When I kiss you, I’ll taste glory. It’ll be like entering heaven. While your departure . . .”
I close my eyes as my heart squeezes thinking about my downfall, and how long it might take to recover from another big loss. “ . . . your departure will be my entry to hell.”
“A poet?” I shake my head in response to her question. “No, wait, you’re a lawyer.”
“The way you say it sounds like I’m a thief or overlord of all evils.”
The waitress chooses to interrupt our conversation, leaving the check on top of the red-checkered tablecloth, while smiling at us. I pull my wallet, place two twenties on top of it and rise from my seat, extending my hand toward Willow. “My lady.”
As she takes it, I entwine our fingers. Walking along with her to the exit, the warm night greets us. The traffic in Brooklyn is lighter, and I can see a few stars in the skyline.
“You were saying about lawyers?” We walk along the sidewalk, heading to the public parking lot where I left my car.
She laughs, biting her lip. “I don’t trust businessmen, lawyers, or gynecologists.”
“The first two I might understand, what about the latter?”
“My ex wanted to become a lady’s doctor.” She huffs, and I’m starting to like that sound between long exhale and snort she makes when things aren’t amusing to her. I side glance at her, finding her rolling those beautiful eyes. “I caught him exploring my best friend’s vagina. He called it practice.”
Another clue, a cheating asshole claimed her heart but did he really ever have it? Is it available? Why is it that I want to reach for it and place it right next to me? If only I could talk to someone about this. My brothers would laugh. Even Harrison wouldn’t understand what I’m feeling. Is it just lust combined with the need for something familiar?
“You can’t assume the entire male population is that way because of him.”
“Hazel says I’m a cynic.” She straightens her posture; her eyes concentrate on the sidewalk. “It’s the fear of not being enough. What if I don’t fit the bill, and he leaves me?”
“Letting things go because you’re scared isn’t living,” I suggest. My therapist repeated this time and again during my teenage years when I refused to leave the house. “You don’t have to do everything at once, but why don’t you do it one step at a time.”
“Are you offering assistance?”
Without stopping, I place her hand to my lips, kissing it twice. “I’m committed to the cause.”
“If I could, I’d live in Brooklyn. New York is fun but overwhelming.” She continues walking toward my car. A woman after my own heart.
Move with me to Brooklyn? Shut up, Hunter. That’s what you want to tell her if you want her to run away and never look back. She’ll declare you a sociopath. The term is asocial, and I’ve overcome most of my anxieties. I shove my hand inside my pocket, breathing deeply as I fidget with the piece of fabric Harrison made for me when I was thirteen.
I open the passenger door after unlocking the car, taking her hand again, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Can I interest you in a second date?” With my free hand, I clear the strands of dark hair flying around her face.
“If I were smart, I would say no, but there’s something about you that . . . I can’t explain it.”
There’s no need for her to say more, I understand. The pull between us. It’s like the moment we touched, our bodies changed at a molecular level and we no longer need oxygen to exist, just each other. Bending my head to her level, I find her mouth, kissing her. My tongue moving between her lips, begging her for . . . what do I want? A kiss, for her to let me touch not only her body, but her soul. Owning her, surrendering myself to her. Our kiss is deep, unpredictable, long, and I want it to last forever.