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We’re quiet for a few moments, starting with our meal.
But after a few bites, Owen says, "Speaking as a dad, I don’t think your dad bought you the bakery because he felt guilty."
I look up. "What?"
"I mean, yeah, maybe that was part of it. But that’s not the whole story.” He sets down his fork and looks at me. “Parents feel guilty, constantly, Luna. We never know if we’re getting it right. And the truth is, we're not getting it right a lot of the time. I've only got Brady, and I still feel like I'm not always meeting all of his needs. And then if I do, I wonder if I should. Like, should I make him work for some things? Shouldn’t I make him go without, so he appreciates what he has? Like I need to give him food and stuff, of course, but I mean, I give him a lot of opportunities, and I make things easier for him. Maybe I should make him work a little harder. But then when I do that, I feel guilty about that. Like, isn’t my job as his dad to make things easier for him? I'm fortunate enough to have a great job, so I have plenty of money, so why shouldn't I give him every opportunity and convenience?” He finally stops and takes a breath. “So all I'm saying is maybe yeah, your dad’s probably feeling guilty, but he would be anyway. So just let him take care of you a little bit. It’s really all he wants. And that’s not such a bad thing."
I’m staring at him. He seems so sincere. Earnest almost. Like me, understanding this is really important to him. And he is a dad. And he has a pretty great kid.
I swallow. "I don't mean to make it sound like I don't love him. We're close. And I know that everything he's done has been to try to help me. I do appreciate him and my mom."
"I know you do. And your brother, right? Because you do go to a lot of hockey games for someone who claims not to like it."
I appreciate him trying to lighten the mood. I smile. "Eighty percent of the time."
He chuckles. "Hell, that's a lot more than most siblings can say."
I take a small bite of salmon. "Do you have siblings?" I would love to know more about him, I realize.
He nods. "Two sisters." He takes a bite of his steak. "One is back in Minnesota, close to my folks. The other is out in Seattle. Both married with kids. My parents are great. Very normal family. Very little drama. In fact, I'm the one with the most drama."
Oh, and here we are, at the subject I most want to ask about but wasn't sure I could. Or how to bring it up. I cut off a little piece of my asparagus and chew for a moment, then ask, "Is it dramatic with your ex?"
"You mean Brady's mom?"
I nod. “Yes. Obviously. Wait, do you have another ex? Do you have an ex-wife? I guess just because you didn’t marry Brady’s mom doesn’t mean you’ve never been married.” Why did that not occur to me before? He’s definitely old enough to have been married and divorced.
He gives me a really? look. “You’re thinking that I’m definitely old enough to have been married and divorced, even with a kid, aren’t you?”
I feel my cheeks get pink. But I nod. “Yeah.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Never married. No ex-wives. But Brady’s mom isn’t really more of an ex than any of the other women I've dated. Hell, I've dated a couple of other women longer than I did her."
"You didn't even date very long?"
"She was a one-night stand. At least until she came around with a positive pregnancy test.”
I reach for my wine and take a sip. "Wow. So that is kind of dramatic."
He swallows his bite of potato and then says, "Honestly? It's not. Chelsea is great. We hung out a little bit while she was pregnant. I went to appointments with her. She called me when she went into labor, so I was there. And we've shared custody ever since. But she met Dev when Brady was about eight. He's a fantastic guy, so I was thrilled when he proposed to her, and he's a great stepdad. He and Brady are close. And their daughter Amara is great, too. She hangs out at my place with me and Brady sometimes. I don't try to be her dad. I don't discipline her or anything like that, but if they ever need a last-minute babysitter or someone to swing by and pick her up after school, I’ll do that if I can. She's totally comfortable with me and we get along great."
I'm watching him as he talks about all of this and he is so at ease, so genuine, and clearly feels affection for all of these people. I set my fork down. "Who are you?"
He tips his head and smiles. "What do you mean?"
"Are all thirty-six-year-old men this well-adjusted? Because I definitely need to start dating older."
Something flickers in his eyes, and he sets his fork down. "How about if you're interested in dating well-adjusted, mature men, you just stick with me?"
My heart does a little swoop in my chest. "Are you interested in dating someone like me? Like more than a couple of times?”
He looks at me for a long moment, then says, "More so every minute."
And dang, there goes my heart, my stomach, and my panties. If I hadn’t already decided to sleep with him, that would have totally done it. "Well, in that case, I will take that under advisement."
For the first time tonight, his gaze drops to my mouth before coming back to my eyes. "Yeah, you take that under advisement."
I am not going to be able to think about anything else, I realize. So this is what it's like to date a real man? I have obviously had a lot of fun with the guys I’ve gone out with and that was all I thought I wanted. The guys I've dated have given me exactly what I've been looking for—companionship, some laughs, some hot sex, and nothing I felt bad about breaking off in the end.
