All Grown Up(12)

I rolled the window down the rest of the way. “Hi.”

“From the gentleman at the bar.”

Smiling, I accepted the delivery, took a healthy gulp of the martini, and hit Call on my phone.

Donovan answered without saying hello. “This counts as a first date now. We’re having a drink together. Mine’s delicious. How’s yours?”

I settled back into my seat. “It’s yummy. Very dirty. I like a lot of olive juice.”

“As long as you brought it up, I like it dirty, too.”

I chuckled. “Is that so?”

“It is. I’m sorry. Hang on a second. I have someone beeping in, and I need to take it.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll just sit here and enjoy my cocktail.” The line went quiet for a moment, and then he came back.

“Sorry about that. I should tell you that there’s another woman in my life, a very demanding one.”

“Oh?”

“She’s a giant pain in the ass, but I can’t seem to figure out how to ignore her calls.”

“Your ex-wife?”

“Worse. Little sister. I’m always afraid it will be that one time something is really wrong and I don’t pick up.”

“Did something happen?”

“She’s upset at the painter who’s working in my apartment at the moment.”

“What did he do?”

“He arrived at 9 a.m. this morning…on a Saturday.”

“Okay…”

“She doesn’t get up until at least one.”

I chuckled.

“By the way, your drink only has one shot of alcohol. It’s mostly olive juice. But maybe you should only drink half, in case you decide not to come in and want to drive in the near future.”

God, this man was so damn thoughtful. The way he made everything easy for me made it harder at the same time. We stayed on the phone talking for another half hour. Considering our current predicament, the conversation focused on bad first dates. Since I hadn’t really had any in twenty years, Donovan did most of the talking. He told me he despised when people ate off of his plate, yet it seemed to be a frequent occurrence. His last three first dates had all ordered salad, drank too much, and then proceeded to pick at his plate of food.

“I wanted to stab my last date’s hand with my fork every time she reached over. I don’t get it. Order your own food if you’re hungry.”

“They’re probably self conscious about ordering a big meal in front of their date.”

“Why?”

“Because almost all women are self-conscious about their weight.”

“Are you?”

“I used to be. But as I came into my thirties, I learned to accept that I was never going to be stick thin, and instead, now I love my curves.”

“I love your curves, too.”

“You haven’t even seen my curves yet.”

Donovan went quiet.

“Did I lose you?”

“Nope. I’m still here.”

Then he was quiet again. We’d never had an awkward moment before, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. If he was half as smart as he seemed, he was probably thinking What the hell am I doing talking on the phone with this nutcase?

I spoke quietly. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Val.”

“That’s not true. But thank you for saying that.”

Again, he went quiet. He was probably regretting the day he messaged me, and I couldn’t blame him.

After a full minute of dead silence, we both went to speak at the same time. Oddly, we said the same words. I said, “Listen, Donovan,” just as he said, “Listen, Val.”

“You go first,” I offered.

“Ladies first.”

“I—” When I opened my mouth to begin to thank him and say goodbye, I noticed the waiter again walking to my car. This time, he was carrying a piece of cake. “The waiter is walking my way with a huge piece of chocolate cake. Is that for me, too?”

“I had to buy you dessert. Can’t have your first date in twenty years suck now, can I?”

The waiter smiled as he approached. I began to roll down my window to accept what looked to be a delicious slice of molten chocolate lava cake, then realized just how insane I was being. “Can you hang on one second?” I asked Donovan.

I pressed mute before getting out of the car. I thanked the waiter and stood outside with my cake in hand. After a minute, I took a deep breath and headed to the restaurant door to have dessert with my date. In person.

Inside, the bar was almost empty. Even though his back was to me, it wasn’t too hard to figure out which man was Donovan. There was an older couple sitting at one end of the bar and two girls who looked barely legal sitting a few stools away from a man holding his phone to his ear.

I unmuted my phone and spoke quietly. “The cake looks delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

My feet felt heavy, like my shoes were made of concrete blocks. Staring at Donovan’s back, I was quiet for a moment as I watched him.

“Listen, Val, I would absolutely love to see you in person. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready. I don’t want to make things more difficult for you.”