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It wasn’t exactly as enticing as sex, not love, but it was what I could handle right now. I put my hand in his. “Friends, not fucking.”
Chapter 17
Natalia
“You really look incredible. I can’t keep my eyes off of you. My buddy is going to be insulted that I’m not looking at his paintings.”
I’d gone all out getting ready for my date with Marcus. After a night of feeling melancholy after Hunter left, I decided maybe if I made myself look good, I might feel better about my date. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working.
“Thank you.” I forced a smile.
Marcus and I moved to the next piece of art, and my first genuine smile of the day appeared. His friend was a talented painter. Most of his pieces were Surrealist, with the focus on one exaggerated object that he’d pulled from a classic movie. The box for the movie that inspired each painting sat on a shelf underneath each work. This particular painting was from the cult horror film The Birds. The movie box had a swarm of birds flying around the head of a terrified woman. But the painting showed a swarm of birdhouses that were falling apart with bent nails hanging out all over, and instead of a woman looking terrified, there was a scared man with nail scratches all over his face.
“I have a friend who would get a kick out of this one. Do you think the artist would mind if I snapped a picture?”
“No, not at all. There’s a sign near the door that says the artist appreciates sharing, but not reproductions.”
I dug my cell from my purse and took a few pictures, intending to send them to Hunter later. I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling the entire time until Marcus brought me back to reality.
“Your smile is contagious. What does that one remind you of?”
“My friend H…” I stopped short of saying Hunter’s name in the nick of time, remembering that Marcus had pointed out my talking about him the last two times we were together. “…my friend had a bad experience with a birdhouse,” I said instead.
After that, my shoulders slumped for the rest of the time we looked at the exhibit. I needed to throw in the towel with Marcus. No amount of forcing it was going to make me attracted to him. A certain someone had ruined that for me. Plus, he was too nice of a guy to disrespect. So I waited until the end of the art show. He’d offered to walk me home, knowing I had plans to go to my weekly dinner at my mom’s.
“You’re a really nice guy, Marcus,” I started.
His smile faded. “Uh-oh. As much as it sounds like a compliment, that’s never a good line to hear on a date.”
I felt bad, but it was for the best. “I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a great guy who deserves a woman who’s excited to be with you and wants a relationship.”
“And that woman’s not you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. It’s not.”
“Is there someone else?”
At least I didn’t have to lie about that. Not in the physical sense anyway. “No.”
Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay.” He looked down at the ground. “Friends, I guess?”
“I’d like that.” We hugged and said goodbye. Since it was a beautiful day, I decided to walk home to clear my head. I hadn’t had sex in almost two years and just dumped a willing participant because I knew he was interested in more than just sex. I’d rebuked Hunter, who was also a willing participant, because I was afraid I couldn’t keep it to just sex. Basically, I’d just turned down two chances to satisfy my libido because of fear of relationships. At this point, I’d be better off going to a bar, picking up a handsome stranger, and having minimal conversation that could fuck it up before getting to the dirty deed.
***
My mother was relentless when she was on the trail of a fresh bachelor who could possibly give her more grandchildren. But when Mom and my sisters were all on one side, it was more than I could handle. Slipping out to the yard by myself after Sunday night dinner, I sat on the swing on the back deck. I wasn’t surprised when Mom followed me.
“Hey. You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”
“Well, you guys aren’t exactly an easy crowd.”
“We only want what’s best for you.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I know, Mom.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again. Her voice was softer than usual when she started. “I regret never getting married again.”
That caught me by surprise. “You do?”
