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“You get it. Thanks for understanding.”
“Not a problem. So though it’s complicated, I would like to try this again.”
She pulled her phone out. “Do I get your number or do I have to come here again and hope to see you?”
It made him wonder if his mother was right and Jasmine did have her eye on him and that she was here for that reason instead. He’d have to keep that thought to himself for now though.
He read her off his number. “Do I get yours?”
“I’ll reach out to you soon,” she said. “This way it will give you some more time to think about what you really want and take the pressure off.”
She picked her glass up and finished her wine; he did the same to his beer. “Thanks for understanding there too.”
“Have a good night, Wesley.”
He watched her leave and then threw some money on the bar as a tip and got up to leave.
He didn’t get far before his mother came out of nowhere. “Was that Jasmine you were sitting with at the bar?”
“You know it was. I’d think it was a setup if she hadn’t said she came out tonight because it was fair in her mind since they’d be doing business with you.”
“She’s a lovely young woman.”
He didn’t reply. His mother didn’t ask a question and so he’d let it go. “I’ve got to go lock up my office.”
His mother sighed. “You do that on purpose.”
He only laughed at her. “You know me well.”
“Did you get her number?”
He wouldn’t lie. “No.”
“Oh,” his mother said, frowning. “It seemed as if you were getting along well at the bar.”
“We were. She told me some of her childhood. Which she said she’d told you too.”
“She did. What a fascinating life she’s led.”
“I don’t believe she feels that way,” he said.
“No,” his mother said. “But she’s funny and sweet. Very polite.”
“Yes, she is,” he said.
“Do you think you’ll see her again?”
“It depends how long it takes her to reach out to me,” he said and watched his mother’s jaw drop.
“You gave her your number?”
“I did. She said she’d be in touch. That I might need time to work it out and wanted to take the pressure off.”
The smile fell from his mother’s face and he read the sympathy there, which he totally didn’t want.
“See,” his mother said. “Sweet. What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. She glanced at my ring finger again and said she was guessing it was complicated.”
