Page 44 of Her Age Gap Match

Sloane considered that.

“I appreciate it,” she said…then immediately moved on. “The flight structure I proposed works well for your guests. They tend to appreciate the progression.”

“Talk me through it,” Dean said.

This time, he looked at her when he said it.

That was progress.

Sloane walked him through the flight, the party, the guests and setup. Dean listened…asked good questions, pointedly directed them at her. I sipped my whiskey and watched, thinking about my own journey.

We all had steps to take. All had to grow before we were ready.

I hoped I was finally ready and that I wasn’t going to let Poppy down.

By the time they’d covered catering, setup, and the question of whether to add a second pour station—they did this every year, always landed on yes—Sloane had everything she needed. She stood, shook Dean’s hand, said she’d have the proposal by Friday, and left just as efficiently as she did everything else.

Dean watched her go.

“She’s good,” he said.

“She’s excellent,” I said. “Has been since day one.”

He nodded, then picked up his glass and settled back into his chair—loosening up, which he did every time we met and all women left the room.

I refilled both our glasses without being asked.

“How’s business?” I asked.

“Good. Busy.” He turned the glass. “Government contracts picked up this quarter. I’m not complaining.” A pause. “My therapist says I should allow myself to complain more.”

I smiled. “Therapy, huh?”

He eyed me. “Been through it yourself?”

“I couldn’t have adjusted to civilian life after being inside a decade without talking to someone professional about it,” I shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dean nodded.

I wasn’t sure if he was convinced.

“Started about eighteen months ago,” he said. “My sister basically staged an intervention. She said I was—her exact words were ‘emotionally unavailable in a way that’s starting to affect the people around you.’” He said it like it was true, not insulting. “She…wasn’t wrong.”

“I have a sister kind of like that,” I laughed. “Not by blood—but a sister anyway. And yeah, she’s usually right.”

"She's also been married twelve years and has four kids and thinks everyone should have what she has." He turned the glass. "I don't disagree with her. That's the part I can't explain to most people."

"What part?"

"That I want it." He looked at the fire. "Men my age, my background—you're supposed to want to be out. Building the empire. Accumulating. The family thing is supposed to be secondary, something you get around to." He paused, brow furrowed. "I don't want to get around to it. I want it now. I've wanted it for fifteen years and I've been putting it in a box because nobody I met wanted it back the same way."

I thought about Poppy saying three sounds okay with her head on my shoulder in the amber light.

"I know what that's like," I said.

He smiled slightly. “You met someone.”

“I did,” I said, then met his eyes. “You should reach out to Bloom Matchmaking. Sophie Bloom…she’s good. Their system works.”