Page 39 of The Dallas Dilemma

She shrugs. “I’ve been to a few games, but I don’t watch them on television, or anything. What about you? Dodgers or Angels?”

“I’m more of a football fan,” I admit. “Though like you, I’ve been to a few games in Anaheim. I guess you could say I’m an Angels fan.”

“What’s your football team?” she asks.

“There wasn’t a team in L.A. when I was growing up, and I’m afraid I was brainwashed by my parents, so I’m a Cowboys fan, through and through.”

“Ouch. That stings,” she says, scrunching up her nose.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean…they haven’t gone to the Super Bowl since before you were born, right?” she asks, her face the picture of innocence.

I lean back in my chair. “You follow football?”

She shrugs. “Let’s just say I’ve been to a lot more football games than I have baseball. My dad is a hugeRaiders fan, and we took a lot of road trips to Oakland when I was growing up.”

“And now he lives near Vegas,” I say with a nod.

“Notan accident,” she says with a chuckle.

Our waiter appears inside our cabana, and I order the steak with a baked potato while Josette orders a chicken caesar salad with bread sticks. We both opt for non-alcoholic drinks, and he promises to deliver them as quickly as possible.

We continue our conversation, asking questions to get to know each other better. I can’t remember ever being so relaxed on a first date. Maybe it’s because we’ve been literally making out all week, or maybe it’s just that I feel like I can be my true, authentic self around Josette.

“Your turn,” I say after we both finish our meals and have ordered a piece of chocolate pie to share. “Ask me anything.”

“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word as she thinks of a question. “Have you ever been in love?”

I feel the blood drain from my face, and Josette winces like she notices. She tries to backpedal, taking the question back and offering to ask something else, but I hold up a palm.

“It’s not a fun story, but I’d like to tell you,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” I say, then take a deep breath. “Up until about a year ago, I was in a relationship with someone for three years. We didn’t officially live together, but she stayed at my place more nights than not. We were solid. We liked the same things, got along well, and Istarted thinking about forever. I went ring shopping and set up a romantic proposal. But when I asked, she didn’t say yes. She ended our relationship.”

“What? Why?” she asks when my words pause.

I shake my head. “She said that she cared about me, but I wasn’t the right man for her. That I didn’tcompleteher. And the only way she’d find her other half was if she ended things with me and went searching for him.”

“Oh, God,” she murmurs, looking upset on my behalf. Then she tilts her head and asks, “What about you? I mean, did she feel like your other half?”

I pause for a moment to choose my words carefully. “I’m not sure if I really believe in the concept. I think there are many components that go into building a full life that makes a person feel whole. A job you enjoy, if not love. Friends. Family. Hobbies and interests. All of that stuff goes into making you who you are. Finding someone to love who loves you back should only enhance the life you’ve built. If you’re asking if Ilovedher, I was certain I did at the time. But now? Now, I’m not so sure.”

She’s nodding thoughtfully, but there’s a wrinkle in her forehead that makes me a bit edgy. Did I take that too far? If she doesn’t agree and does believe in all that “other half” stuff, the last thing I want to do is alienate her. I need to change the subject. Immediately.

“What about you? Any serious relationships?”

Her expression smooths into a blank slate as she shakes her head. “No. Not really. I had a boyfriend in high school, but it wasn’t real. I felt like I was supposed to want a boyfriend, so when he asked me out, I said yes. Iliked him, I guess. He was kind and respectful. At least, he was at first. We dated for a few weeks before he started pressuring me to take things further, and I ended up agreeing because, again, I thought it was expected. It wasn’t great, and I broke up with him the next day. Other than that, I’ve only gone out on random dates Callie or my friends set up for me.”

She ends that statement with a slight shrug, and an ugly tension blooms in my gut. Her high school boyfriend pressured her into sex? And he didn’t even make it good for her? I’d tear him to shreds if he were here right now.God, I’m so glad I’ve been taking things slow with Josette and insisting that she set a pace she’s comfortable with.

She must see the anger radiating off me, because she reaches over to touch my wrist.

“I’m okay. I only told you that because I wanted you to understand how much I appreciate you and your patience,” she says, pausing to lick her lips, “and how it makes mewantyou that much more.”

Something that looks like fear lights her eyes, and I realize she’s put herself out there in a way that’s difficult for her. And I still haven’t responded.Fuck.

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