Page 15 of Romance Languages

“I’m so sorry! Is she okay?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said sharply. “It all happened so fast.”

“I’m really sorry.” I had no idea what else to say. The date ground to a halt before even leaving the station.

A sense of urgency hit me. This woman could be my future mother-in-law.

“Do they know why she collapsed?”

“Don’t know. Maybe we should reschedule this date.”

“Okay. Of course. You need to be with your family.” I flagged down the waiter for the check. Worry seized me. This could happen to any of us. I was going to call my parents as soon as I got to my car.

The waiter put the check in the middle of the table. Erik and I both reached for it at the same time (cute), and when he did, his phone tipped out of his free hand, showing the unmistakable interface of a Milkman chat window.

“You’re on Milkman right now?”

“What? Uh, no.”

I grabbed the phone from his hand, my heart turning colder as I scrolled. “You’re messaging with guys to meet up later while you’re on a date with me?”

Erik took his phone back.

“I take it your mother is just fine.”

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

What an understatement. A few seconds ago, I was worried about my potential mother-in-law; now I was reeling with anger.

“Why?” I asked, my insides turning to ice. “Just tell me why. You were flirty and interested in our messages. You were the one who wanted to meet up.”

“I didn’t feel a spark.”

“I sat down a minute ago.”

His face hardened. “You don’t look like you do in your pictures. I’m into muscular guys, and you looked kinda buff in your pictures. But I guess that was just the angle.”

I knew what picture he was referring to. I was at a barbeque, and by the way I was turned and the tightness of my shirt sleeves, the angle hid my stomach, flattened my chest, and accentuated my arms. It was an optical illusion that I shamefully embraced.

“You deceived me,” he said.

“I didn’t deceive you.”

“I said what I was and wasn’t looking for in my profile.”

“No fatties,” I grumbled.

“I take fitness very seriously. Look, let’s not waste each other’s time.”

“Right,” I said, my jaw tight.

When I stood up, I hit the table with my knee, tipping over both of our wine glasses onto his lap. It was petty, but at least I could smile once on this god-awful date.

“Thanks for the wine.”

6

SEAMUS

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