Chapter Fifteen

The rest of the dinner goes well. Or rather, I really want it to go well, but it actually doesn’t go that great. Luke and I are on the same page, and that’s always a good thing because we won’t have false expectations. I’m big on that.

But instead of basking in the afterglow of a successful pre-relationship negotiation, I’m doing my best not to smash my phone to bits. Would it be illegal to create an app that connected hit men with potential clients? There’s gotta be a demand for one.

My phone’s gone off seven times since Luke said, “Deal.” The first two times, I thought it might be from the migration team. But no. They’re texts from an unknown number. The latest one reads: Come on. It’s been long enough that you should be over it by now. I love you, babe.

I don’t have to do any fancy snooping to know who sent them. It’s Gerald. I block the number. And the next one. And the next one. But somehow he keeps sending me texts via brand-new accounts. How many burners did he buy?

“Sorry,” I say to Luke for the ten millionth time. My smile is getting tighter and tighter. I’ve never been this embarrassed on a date before because it’s my policy not to make the guy feel unwanted in some bullshit passive-aggressive way. If I’m bored, I just tell him things aren’t working out, get up and leave. But this…! Argh! “Can’t turn off the phone because I’m on call this weekend,” I explain again.

“It’s fine.”

I put the phone back—again—and try to concentrate on the man in front of me. “Tim said you’re going to be at Sweet Darlings Inc. for four weeks. What are you doing, exactly?” I lean forward. “You aren’t an intern, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“We don’t have an official interoffice dating policy, but Alexandra isn’t exactly a fan. I’m sure she’d frown on a fling with an intern, me being in a position of power and all.” Although that’s sort of hot…in a very naughty and unconventional way. How many times do women get to hold all the power over a guy in an interoffice relationship? There’s a reason you don’t see The CEO’s Male Virgin Gigolo Intern on bookshelves. Too unrealistic—at the moment, anyway…

“Don’t worry.” Luke laughs. “I’m there purely to observe. For research.”

“For what? You trying to decide if you want to be an app developer?”

“No. I have no desire to be a programmer. I…write.”

“For a magazine?”

“No, nothing like tha—”

My phone goes off again. Another unknown number, calling me “babe.” A contract killer’s too good for Gerald. I need a contract torturer.

When the bastard sends me the twenty-fourth text of the evening, I’ve had enough. I sigh and look at Luke. “Could you just excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom.”

I go to the back, where the restaurant has a couple of unisex bathrooms, and dial the number, while fantasizing about the various ways I can ensure that Gerald will never hold a phone again.

“Sammi! I knew I could get through to you eventually.”

With supreme willpower, I unclench my jaw. “Hi, Gerald. Still keeping Satan’s pitchfork all nice and shiny?”

“Come on, Sam—”

“What part of ‘we’re finished’ did you not understand?”

“C’mon, just give me another chance,” he whines. “I sent you flowers at work.”

“Never got them.” I had Loretta, the Sweet Darlings lobby receptionist, toss out all red rose deliveries addressed to me.

“What the fuck? I paid for those!”

“Glad to hear it. Theft is a crime.”

“Sammi, we need to talk. About us.”

“There is no us. There wasn’t an us the moment you decided to cheat on me.”

Gerald is either obtuse or doesn’t care. But then, he never was good at getting the hint. “It’s been, like, two weeks. You should’ve gotten over it by now.”

“As it happens, I did. I can’t even remember what your face looks like anymore.”

He breathes like a horse after a race, making me shudder. “C’mon. It was just one time.”

“One or one thousand, it doesn’t matter.”

“I treated you like a princess!”

“Didn’t have much choice, with that pea-sized dick. And in what fairytale does the prince cheat on the princess?”

“She came on to me! You saw that!”

God grant me a winning lottery ticket, because I’m definitely hiring a ninja to break Gerald’s fingers. And then go to work on his larger joints. “You’re an adult, and it was your choice. And yes, I saw the whole scene, and I only believe what I witnessed with my own eyes, not the shit coming out of your mouth.”

“You’re being inflexible!” he yells.

“You’re damn right, I’m inflexible!” I hiss, embarrassed and furious. A two-timing ex who sends me tons of texts on my first date with another guy is worse than a slug swimming in my saké. “I told you no cheating and no lies, and what did you do? Both! I told you it’s over, so just accept it. Go find yourself someone more flexible.” Since I don’t have the funds to afford a ninja yet, I go for the second-best option. “Next time you contact me, I’m siccing my brothers on you. I have three, and not only are they bigger and tougher than you are, two of them are attorneys.”

I hang up, my hand clenched around the phone. I resist the urge to throw it. Hurling the phone would hurt me more than Gerald.

Exhaling roughly, I take a moment to calm down. Luke doesn’t need to see me in my temper. Finally, when I feel more…peaceful, I stretch my neck left and right and turn around. Then I see Luke saying something to the waitress, his expression cordial but cool in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Hey,” I say, trotting over to him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.” It’s already after nine. “Where’s the bill?”

“I took care of it.”

I scowl. “You shouldn’t have.” I have a firm rule about not letting the guy buy me dinner until at least our fourth date. That way, I don’t owe anything.

“Indulge me. I asked you out.”

I give him a look. Is he going to be like my brothers, who throw a tantrum if I try to pay? Probably. His jaw’s set, and there’s a stubborn glint in his eyes.

“My treat next time,” I say. “Agree or I’m going to make a scene.”

He smirks. “Fine.”

We leave the restaurant together. It’s frigid outside, the wind instantly chilling my cheeks and knees. I sidle closer, and he puts an arm around my shoulders. I luxuriate in his warmth and scent. I could definitely get used to this. We should just go to his place…unless he has roommates. Wait, he said he got an Airbnb…so he probably has the whole place to himself. We could go to my place, but Michelle’s going to be back later, and that might be awkward for him. Or not. Hmm. Hard to decide, since I never bring guys home. It’s always more efficient to sleep over at my date’s, so I can leave whenever I feel like it.

Besides, it’s better I go to his place so we can set the pace for the relationship. I don’t stay the night at a guy’s house without my overnight stuff, and I didn’t pack anything for this date, since I didn’t know how things would go. Sex, maybe; staying the night, no. Not yet, anyway.

Luke opens the door to his Porsche, and I slide in. He gets behind the wheel. The engine purrs, and the car moves off smoothly.

“In the interests of being honest, I overheard your conversation,” he says after a moment.

I tilt my head. I thought I was the stalker in any given relationship, but maybe Luke’s the same. Should this go under pros or cons? “Did you follow me?” I ask.

“Nope. I was going to use the bathroom…but you were talking there, outside.” He shoots a glance my way.

I review the conversation. I don’t think I said anything too mean. Sometimes I can get carried away in an effort to make my point with extra-obtuse men. “Sorry you had to hear that. You have no idea how much I wish I weren’t on call this weekend.” I pout. “But don’t worry. He won’t be texting or calling again.”

“Are your exes always this persistent?”

“Not always.” Actually, most are pretty annoying, especially when they just refuse to accept the fact that when I end a relationship, it’s over. I don’t do second chances or angsty reconsideration. It’s totally pointless. People don’t change. And no relationship is worth an encore of heartache. “I’d say about half, maybe a little more.” I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about them, though. They’re all in the past—and completely irrelevant.” Besides, don’t we have more important things to think about? Like…how to proceed, now that dinner’s over, we’re on the same page, and my phone’s quiet?

Luke opens his mouth to say something, then his phone starts to buzz. I swallow an exasperated sigh. It’s unfair of me to feel resentful, although I’m beginning to hate technology. It’s supposed to bring people together, not push us apart.

Luke looks at the screen and scowls. Then, very quietly, he says, “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I need to be out of town.”

“Like…now?”

He nods, his jaw flexing.

“Whatever for?” I don’t want to be intrusive, but like he said… Damn it. This is our first date. I expected it to go somewhere beyond just dinner interrupted multiple times by my idiot ex. At least an encore of the kiss. Maybe a couple extra bases, even if we didn’t go all the way.

Luke’s frown deepens. Finally, he says, “It’s…complicated.” He sighs.

Translation: he doesn’t want to talk about it.

A teeny part of me wants him to share, but I get it. We’re a new couple, and seriously, even in old and mature relationships, people want to keep some secrets. As long as he doesn’t betray me, I’m fine with it. Or so I tell myself.

“Okay. Call me.” I give him my number.

He squeezes my hand, although his smile doesn’t get very far. “I will.”