Page 105 of Accidental Blind Date
I take a deep breath, making no effort to straighten my hair or fix my oversized hoodie, which is falling off one shoulder and revealing a tattered sports bra underneath, before opening the door.
Dax’s expression drops when he sees me, and I almost feel bad. Emphasis on almost.
“Libby,” he says with a tired relief.
He’s jumping the gun here. I’ve given him no reason to feel that way. He should be on his knees right now.
“You have five minutes,” I tell him.
“Are you serious? After everything we’ve been through you’re just going to assume that–”
“Four minutes and fifty-five seconds,” I cut him off.
His jaw tightens but he gets to it. “Libby. It’s all a misunderstanding.”
“Is it?” I cross my arms, my purple sweatpants clad hip popping out to the side. “Because the way I see it, you lied to me.”
“Can you just let me explain?”
“Can you just admit you lied?”
Dax covers his mouth with his hand. “Okay. Yes. I admit it. I told you I was Jax, and I wasn’t. But I didn’t lie.”
“How is that not a lie?” I cry out.
“Because I didn’t lie about who I was!”
“We didn’t tell each other almost anything that night!”
“Exactly. Libby…” he takes a step forward and I take a step back, so he stops. “I’m not Jax.”
“Obviously,” I cut him off, but he goes on.
“I was at Tony’s that night because it was my anniversary.”
“The anniversary of the day you created a one-night only dating app profile? Oh, that’s right, that wasn’t you.”
“No,” he snaps back with just as much venom. “The anniversary of my first date with my wife,” he says, and I don’t cut in this time. “We went to Tony’s every year on that day, and I’ve kept the tradition, even after she died.”
For some reason, as touching as the storyshouldbe, it’s no excuse. And maybe I am heartless for saying that. But I find him a bit heartless using his late wife to manipulate me into accepting a lie.
“So, you go there now to pick up chicks to fill in the gap?” I ask.
He takes a step forward, a step that is dominant enough that I don’t move back and he is suddenly towering over me, his jaw tight and his eyes brimmed with an oceanic blue, like a dark cloud just before a storm cracks the sky.
“I go there to remember what’s left. And usually, I have a drink or two, not to celebrate but to numb the pain. And this time, I saw you. While I was sulking over the loss of the mother of my children, I looked out across the bar, and I saw you sitting at a table by yourself. You were dressed up, nervous, and happy all at the same time. And you were waiting for a date who decided not to show up.”
“So, what, you’re saying you spied on me and then when the real Jax didn’t show you came over out of pity?” I ask.
“I came over because you were beautiful, and I wanted to have a drink with you. I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you pretended to be him!”
“Only because you were so distraught that he didn’t show! So maybe I should’ve been honest with you. But I wasn’t fake. Other than the name, I was me. I was lonely and you were alone. But who knows. Maybe I made a mistake.”
My chin is starting to quiver, and no matter how hard I try to shove the emotion back, my eyes are burning hot with the threat of a rush of salty tears.
“Maybe you did. And also? I don’t buy it,” I say, and Dax gives me a questioning look.
