Page 12 of Perfect Blend

“I know I said it the other day, but I’m thankful for your honesty. I feel like it’s not exactly second date material. I’ve been up front about my divorce, but that’s more from a socially awkward standpoint. I figured I’d be rusty to the whole dating thing and I truly do appreciate you being open with me.”

“Of course, besides if this,” I gesture between us, “were to lead anywhere in the future, I don’t want us to start off with secrets. And I do want to see where this goes Sally. I think there’s something between us.”

I must have said something that hits her hard. Sally’s eyes get a little misty. Not quite teary but her bright blue eyes are full of sorrow, a storm swirling within them. Not the direction I wanted to take the conversation.

Shit. She probably thinks I plan to propose on the next date.

“Oh Victor,” her voice cracks, “I want to tell you something but I just don’t know how to tell you.”

I don’t want to be the reason behind the tears that seem to be on the verge of falling. I change the direction, away from whatever is plaguing her and her sadness. I choose to tell her about my melancholic past. I decide to open myself further to Sally, my gut tells me it’s the right move.

“What did my sister tell you about me before you agreed to the first date?”

“Your sister was vague on details. Other than the bits and pieces she would say before trying to set us up on a blind date.”

Her hand is on my thigh, my cock practically jumping in attention at her soft touch. Hopefully she doesn’t notice.

Thank God for thick denim jeans. This is not the time to suggest moving someplace a little more romantic.

“But not everything I assume?” Sally nods, her hand still resting on my thigh.

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to explain one of the toughest times in my life. “I was engaged, madly in love, and then I was in a car accident.” I go to take the flannel off, maintaining eye contact with Sally as if one of us were to look away we’d be over.

The scars from the accident wrap around my limbs, having been hung upside down in the car crash. The flames only burned my arms and legs as they dangled, the seatbelt holding my body against the seat. I don’t get nightmares anymore, but seeing the scars on display makes me feel like the room is growing warmer by the second.

Sally lightly touches my arm, tracing her fingers lightly across them. Her touch is gentle. Her curiosity feels exploratory rather than disgusted. Her fingers follow the faint scars around my forearm and up to my biceps.

I feel too exposed. Naked almost. My scars on the outside, and inside, visible to this gorgeous woman sitting in front of me.

I cover her hand in mine, close my eyes, and take a deep breath in.

Before I exhale, Sally shifts her weight, and I can feel her move closer. When I open my eyes, she’s straddling my lap. Not sitting, but on her knees, making our eyesight level. She puts her hands on my cheeks, her bright blue eyes holding mine. The sadness is there, but so is something new.

I wait, letting Sally decide her next move. For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling ready to consider a future with someone. To imagine making coffee in the morning for someone else. To go out on fun dates and plan vacations. These little glimmers of happiness I haven’t let myself dare to explore before Sally.

I have to let her open up with me, and be open with her in return.

I have to see where things with Sally will go.

Sally

“I can’t have kids Victor.” If I want even a glimmer of happiness, I know I need to share the things that could tear us apart.

I maintain eye contact as I continue with the words that I haven’t told anyone outside of my ex-husband and doctor. “I can’t have children naturally or assisted with methods like IVF. I’m not against having children, it’s just not something my body will ever handle.”

My heart is racing, the truth out there now. Lingering in the space between us.

I assumed between age, career, and being divorced I’d end up with someone who already had kids or wasn’t interested in having any. But Victor wants a family. He wants someone who can be his partner in life, and that includes having kids. I can’t deliver on that end.

Maybe it’s not the end of the world for him, or for us.

While I avoided dates and relationships since the divorce was initiated last year, I feel a closeness with Victor that I haven’t felt in a long time. Even while married. I guess it had been a few years of my ex and I having a relationship that was closer to roommates than lovers than I realized.

Warm hands grip my thighs, pulling me closer to him. My ass now pressed against his lap, holding me tight as if I may run at any moment. But I won’t run.

“Is that why you divorced?” He tilts my head up with his finger, lightly grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. As if a switch, the sadness I was just feeling recedes like the tide.

As it fades a wave of desire washes in. There’s chemistry between us and in this moment, this simple touch, I know he feels it as well.

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