Page 102 of The Blind Date

“I can’t believe you’re here either,” he smiled softly and brushed my hair back to get a better look at my face. “Now that you’re here, I wish I had brought you around earlier. You look so perfect in my apartment, darling. Like you’re meant to be here.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I willed it to calm down.

“Better late than ever,” I grinned, hoping to reassure him.

He cracked another nervous smile.

We hadn’t known each other for long and had been officially dating even shorter than that, but it was refreshing to see that he cared enough to be nervous. At this moment right now, he didn’t seem the least bit obnoxious but rather an anxious man that sought human validation like every other person out there. Sure, he still got on my nerves immensely. Like when he went a whole week without calling or texting me back but hearing it from his point of view made me feel slightly better about it.

Cedric hadn't meant anything malicious by ignoring me. He had just taken a few days to curl up within himself in a desperate bout of self-preservation. But that couldn't continue. Not if we wanted to continue seeing each other. Not if we wanted us to work out.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked in a small voice, resisting the urge to throw back the glass of white wine and pour myself another one…and then another one, and another one until I was too drunk for this conversation.

"Us," Cedric whispered in a small voice and paused to take a sip of his wine before placing the glass on the coffee table. I turned my body toward him, giving him my utmost attention. "I wanted to talk to you about us, but first of all, I wanted to apologise again for ignoring you this past week. I gave my reasons earlier, but it was still very childish of me. I'm usually quite good at communication, but I let my jealousy over something I shouldn't have gotten jealous of in the first place get the best of me. It was wrong, and I’m sorry. I give you my word that it won’t happen again, darling.”

“I believe you, and I’m sorry for what happened as well." I reached out to take one of his hands in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before brushing the pad of my thumb over the back of it. "I shouldn't have pushed you to open up to me when you clearly weren't ready. I should have been more patient and understanding."

“Agree that we both made a few mistakes there?” Cedric offered me a lopsided grin. “Perhaps, me more than you.”

“Perhaps, but I’m just glad we’re speaking again.”

“I’m glad we’re speaking again as well.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “The other thing I wanted to tell you was that I got divorced five years ago. I thought she was the love of my life. I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together, but unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out that way.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I murmured in a barely-there whisper, feeling torn. “I’m sorry that I pushed you when you clearly weren’t ready. I’m willing to wait however long it takes until you’re comfortable to open up with me. And if that’s never, then that’s okay as well.”

I didn’t want to push him if he wasn’t ready, but I also couldn’t deny that I didn’t want to know everything about Cedric, including his past. Perhaps, it was because I wanted to know more about the man I could feel myself quickly falling for, or perhaps it was down to the insecure part of me that wanted to know more about his ex-wife. The woman that he had loved enough to marry.

“I know, darling, but I want to. I want us to have a fair shot, and that’s not possible if I’m withholding myself from you. If I can’t be honest with my girlfriend, then who can I be honest with?” Cedric murmured in question and cupped my face, tilting it toward his.

I nodded encouragingly but didn't dare say anything. I was too scared to ruin the moment.

"Her name was Wendy. We met at university," he began with a heavy sigh. "I was studying Computer Science, and she was studying Electronic Engineering. We had a few modules together, but we didn't start talking until the second semester of the first year."

A university romance? I hated to admit it, but that was a great‘how we met’story. Any other time, it would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but this time, it did nothing but fill my stomach with dread.

How was I supposed to beat a cute university romance?

Pushing past my insecurities, I focused on Cedric. He had dropped my face and turned his head to stare out the window. His eyes were hollow and lost. I squeezed his hand.

“We started dating that summer, and we were still dating when we graduated. I don’t think either of us thought we would last that long because most university romances didn’t, but we did. In the third year, we didn’t have any modules together, but that only made our time together even more special,” Cedric murmured in a quiet voice, his lips slowly tugging down at the corners. “I proposed to her not even a week after we graduated, and we were married before Christmas that same year.”

I resisted the urge to comment on how cute that sounded. As his current girlfriend, that would be weird, right? Or would it be weirder if I didn’t say anything?

"Things were great at the beginning. She was everything I could ever want in a life partner, and she often told me the same thing, so when it all started unravelling, it came as a huge shock to me."

My heart physically ached at the pained expression on his face. Unable to hold myself back any longer, I got up on my knees and leaned forward, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him tight. His arms immediately wrapped around mine and he pulled me close. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on here, whether I was comforting him or if it was the other way around. Either way, our arms were wrapped around each other, and I had my face buried in the crook of his neck, his dark, musky scent comforting me.

"I'm not telling you this to feel sorry for me,” Cedric whispered, giving me a gentle squeeze as he pulled me closer until I straddled him. Instead, it was wholesome and loving, and I had never experienced a moment as beautiful as this one before.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” I whispered into the crook of his neck. “I’m just holding you.”

“Are you holding me, or am I holding you?” He chuckled, turning his head to graze the tip of his nose down the curve of my jaw, his lips dancing over my skin.

“I’m the one holding you,” I lied.

"If that makes you feel better, darling, then sure," he chuckled. “Back to my lying, cheating ex-wife,” he chuckled again, but the sound was dark, tasteless, and far from humoured. "On our second wedding anniversary, I came home early from work to find her screwing one of her co-workers in our bed.”

I gasped, and one of my hands flew to cover my mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry.”

---