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“Yeah, exactly--something my father wouldn’t have an appreciation for. And he’s a hockey player. Even if I could invite him, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to go. He’s a dive-bar-and-sports-stadium type of guy. I need a guy that’s Broadway plays and charity galas.”
“Broadway plays and charity galas? Sounds like a snore. I mean, I like Broadway as much as any girl, but the men that like that stuff are…” She closes her eyes and lets her head lull to the side, feigning sleep.
“Besides, it’s just a fling,” I continue as if I’m trying to convince myself, more than her. Maybe I am. “He’s leaving soon, and it’s been fun, but I need to move on.”
“Imagine if Dan and the prince were one in the same,” she says laughing.
“Maybe you should drop the marketing gig and write screenplays for Hallmark.” I roll my eyes.
“Boo.” Blanca frowns, but instantly perks up. “Okay, but… in some ways lowering your standards worked a bit. So keep that in mind when you’re looking.”
“Looking for…?” Even to my own ears I sound defeated and tired and I realize just the thought of not seeing Dan again makes me feel like a deflated balloon.
“Mr. Right.”
“Oh, I’m not?—”
“Yes, you are. Don’t lie. You need a man in your life, and you need a date to this gala thing, and you need to get Mr. Hot Hockey Player out of your head. So… here.” She picks up my phone, punching in my passcode and opening my dating app. Sliding it across the desk at me, she picks up her coffee and takes a drink.
“I can look later,” I murmur, pushing my phone away.
“Nope.” She shoves the phone back at me. “You can’t. You need time to take him for a test drive.” One of her perfect brows arches. “Tonight, Elle. Pick someone, and have them meet you at Ce Soir.”
“God, you’re bossy.” I blow out forcefully and pick up my phone to scroll through my many matches, most of which I’ve already rejected for one reason or another. “Why are we friends, again?” I tease.
“Because I’m your fairy godmother, bitch.” She grabs the phone out of my hand, scrolls furiously for about sixty seconds and then lands on a profile.
“Here you go. Pick this guy.”
She hands me the phone, and I read.
Bennet James. 32, dark hair, green eyes, 5’10. Investment Banker with a background in political science. Likes to travel, particularly enjoys Europe, and rows or sails on weekends. I look up at Blanca. “He enters The Head of the Charles Regatta, annually. He’s basically my dad’s wet dream of son-in-laws.” I wonder if he likes Star Wars.
Sighing, I push the phone back at her. “Set it up, fairy godmother.”
Bennet looks a hell of a lot more comfortable at Ce Soir than Dan did, but he’s not nearly as hot. He’s attractive though. He rises as I get to the table.
“Cindelle?”
I nod. “Bennet?”
“Yes,” he says with a nice smile. We hug awkwardly.
He pulls out my chair and as I sit, I ask, “So do you go by Ben or Bennet?”
“Bennet. And you, Cindelle? Do you have a preferred name?”
“Cindi is fine.” I prefer to be called Elle, but since I might be bringing him to meet my parents using the name they use is probably best.
He passes me a drink menu after he sits down himself. He gets points for pulling out my chair and for offering me the menu. While I can do these things myself, I like the tradition of a gentleman or maybe I just know my father will expect any date I bring to be chivalrous.
“Well hey there, folks!” Ariella secretly winks at me before giving me a thumbs up under the table. “You just here for drinks or should I bring menus?”
Bennet looks at me. “Lady’s choice.” And I give him another point for that.
“Sure you can bring us menus.” I smile.
“Cocktails to start? Our specials tonight are banana martinis; sounds horrible, but trust me, they’re good. The beers we have on tap are Coors light and Budweiser.”
