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“If it keeps you here, I promise.”
He holds up his hand and I grin, unable to maintain my serious expression.
“I can’t hate you for the person you were before me.”
“Can I like you for the person you were before me? Because the woman who chose to go to the movies, even though her date stood her up…I want to like that woman. I want to know her very much.”
This powerful man, who’s worked with some of the most beautiful women in the world, who’s shared space with gorgeous models and has been connected to some of the most influential people in the world…he cooked me dinner.
He asks me questions and stares at me like he doesn’t want to miss a word I say. And maybe this is love-bombing, and he just wants to fuck me. Maybe this means nothing to him, but I tuck the experience somewhere deep inside of me.
The way he looks at me, the scent of the room, the warmth of the wine and the eagerness of his words.
It’s like I want to capture moments, romantic little footnotes that will remind me that I’m worthy of love, should I ever forget it.
