Page 55 of My Blind Date is a Demon

“Come on, eat your semifreddo before it melts,” he says. He picks up his fork and cuts into the semifreddo. He offers me the bite. It’s so delicious as it melts in my mouth.

“Wow… Just…wow,” I say. “Give your chef a raise.”

“Okay,” he says, and we laugh.

“So, how are you feeling about all this?” I ask him after a few more bites. “I mean, do you really want to spend the next half a century with me? I’m just a boring old human with a lot of baggage. What’s the attraction?”

He puts his fork down and rubs his hands together. “Hmm. Well, you are very attractive.”

“That’s because I don’t eat much,” I say, taking another big mouthful of semifreddo. “At least, I didn’t. Depression is great for keeping the weight off. If you make me happy, you might also make me fat.”

He laughs. “Hey, nothing wrong with a bit of curves. This idea that skinny women are ideal is a very modern concept.”

“What else do you like about me?”

“You are thoughtful, inquisitive. A good friend. Very selfless. I’m just drawn to you. I like being with you. It can’t all be put into words, I think. I didn’t think I’d find happiness with a suburban life either, but what can I say?”

“Is it a phase?” I ask. “Some midlife crisis? Will you get bored with me?”

“Human men get bored, too,” Damon says. “Isn’t that why so many of them have affairs?”

“That sounds like deflection,” I say, a little annoyed.

“Maybe,” he says. “Sure, I might get bored someday. But I can assure you that my attention span is much longer than your average guy’s.”

“But you aren’t an average guy,” I say. “You are a demon. There isn’t anyone out there I’ll be able to go to for help or advice when we have problems. This is totally uncharted territory.”

“You are right,” he says, putting his hand on mine again. “Look, I don’t have all the answers. And I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. But you will just have to trust me. Not now, not right away. As you said, that is what dating is for. Just give me a chance, that’s all I’m asking. We will figure it out together, okay?”

The look on his face is so sincere, I can’t help but agree. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m desperate. I don’t know. Or maybe the feelings I have that are growing are genuine and it would be stupid to not at least give him a chance. I don’t know. But I do think that if I don’t give him a chance, I will regret it. I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what if…

“Okay,” I say with far more confidence than I feel.

“Good, because the date isn’t over yet. Finish your wine and dessert and let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t eat another bite,” I say, pushing the dessert away. I do polish off the wine, though.

Damon says something to the waiter and maître d as we leave, sharing a laugh and pat on the back with each of them. We don’t pay, but if he owns it, I guess he wouldn’t. I hope he gives them each a nice surprise in their next paycheck.

We start to walk past the man playing the concertina when Damon stops, tugs on my arm, and pulls me close. He stares into my eyes as we sway to the music. Everything is so perfect—Damon, the music, even the weather. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect date.

I let out a sigh and half close my eyes, a little drowsy from the wine and the late hour. I take my hand from his and wrap my arms around his neck, wanting to be that much closer to him. I can feel the heat of his hands through the thin fabric of my dress on my lower back. How I long to feel those hands elsewhere…

He licks his lips and leans toward me. I close my eyes and let it happen. My first kiss in more than six years. His lips are full and pillowy against my own. Warm and inviting. He tastes like hazelnut chocolate from our shared dessert and smells like coconut oil. One of his hands moves up my back and the other to my jaw, holding me tight, not letting the kiss end as he sucks my lower lip and explores my mouth with his tongue.

The kiss finally breaks as we each suck in a breath. I turn my face to the side and he nibbles the side of my jaw.

“Tamzin,” he whispers, and I can only let out a shaky moan in response. “I want more. I want you.”

I find the strength to shake my head and come to my senses. “Not so… I want to take things slow, remember?”

“I think you are the one who is torturing me,” he says, and we laugh. The man playing the concertina laughs too. Damon turns to him, and the man says something in Italian.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“He says that you are a tease.”

I act insulted and shake my finger at the old man as we all laugh together.

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