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He holds the door open for me to pass through, which is…odd. It takes me a second to attribute the disconcerting sensation to my husband, who never opened a door for me in all our time together. Not even when we were dating. In fact, as Alejandro pulls out the bar stool for me to sit, I get flashes of my husband—then boyfriend—walking ahead of me, not holding my hand in public, rarely picking up the tab.
It occurs to me that I put up with a lot of shit that I shouldn’t have. I excused and made excuses for him, and I don’t even know why. Maybe I’m one of those women who love too much. Give too much to others at the expense of themselves. Even these small gestures are a refreshing change of pace.
The bartender makes his rounds, and we both order a beer.
“Are you hungry?”
I glance at the menu left on the counter in front of us. “No,” I say honestly. “I’m too nervous to eat.”
“Me too,” Alejandro admits, smiling. It’s a shy smile, and it’s so endearing I want to lean in and kiss him on the spot.
“You are?” I ask with some surprise. His eyes widen, and he nods, and I swear to God, he just got ten times sexier. “I never would have expected that. You seem so confident in texts.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Get out of here. Are you serious?”
“Yep. This is my first time doing anything like this.”
That catches me off guard even more. He was so eager, so in control in our texts, I just assumed he was a regular pro at picking up women. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction is to distrust him. No way doesn’t he know what he’s doing. But one look in those soulful brown eyes and I readjust my attitude. I see no deception there. All I see is the same shyness that I feel.
Somehow, in a strange twist, his unease erases every ounce of nerves I walked into this with. I’m instantly calm, my nerves grow quiet, and I settle in.
“So,” Alejandro says as he leans in just a little, “did you do that background check?”
I flush and take a drink of my beer. “No,” I confess with a little shake of my head. In all honesty, I didn’t want to. I wanted to just go with the flow, not overthink things like I have a tendency to do, and just see where things went.
“No?” He seems surprised by this. I shake my head to confirm. His brows go up, and he takes a drink of his own beer.
“Did you look me up?”
“I did,” he says.
“Afraid I was going to be a murderer?” I tease.
“I was afraid you would not be who you said you were.” He goes on to tell me that his boss, who doubles as his friend, told him all sorts of horrible possibilities that come with online dating. Even advised him against meeting me. “He said you were going to be a man,” Alejandro tells me.
I laugh outright. “Well, I assure you I’m not.”
He looks me over, those eyes of his smoldering. “No, you are not.”
The thinly veiled compliment causes my stomach to dip a little, and I look away, needing a moment to gather my wits. I’ve never been good at receiving compliments. Thank you seems like wasted words, so I choose silence.
“So what happened with you and your husband?”
I’ve only told him the barest details about the split in our texts. Alejandro asked what I was looking for in a relationship, and my response was simple: loyalty and honesty. His reply had been, “Now I know why you’re getting a divorce.” Nothing more needed to be said at the time, but now…
I cringe inwardly because I hate that I have to reveal that nature of mymarriageto mydate. It makes me wish I was already divorced as if it somehow tarnishes the beauty of a new relationship, but if I want honesty, I have to be honest in return. So I am.
“He cheated throughout our relationship, and this last time I found out he was keeping a mistress for the last year, so I kicked him out.” That’s seriously paraphrasing it, but it paints the picture well enough.
“Is he trying to get back with you at all?”
“No.” A month ago, hell, a week ago, I would have been lamenting about my husband’s lack of interest in reconciling, because who the hell wants their entire life turned upside down? But since Alejandro entered the picture, I feel this insane light inside of me that eclipses all the darkness.
“What if he did? What would you do?”
I look off to a TV mounted over the bar and consider it for the barest moment. When the words come tumbling out without much thinking at all, and I’m surprised by how true they are. “It wouldn’t matter if he wanted to. He’s hurt me too much, and I’m done. I just want to be happy, and he’s never going to make me happy, and frankly, I deserve better.”
