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A smile lifts my face when we enter the restaurant known for its South American cuisine. The place is bright and colorful with ridged iron and birdcage walls crafting stylistic strata. The homey and pastoral ambiance is increased with a graffiti-style work that makes the place look like an artist’s haven. Fortunately, it isn’t as crowded as the other restaurants we passed by, and I discover they only attend to customers based on reservation. It’s not surprising that Miles has booked in advance, though it’s a bit annoying. He already knew I would agree to what now seems like a date. Suppressed anger simmers inside me.
We’re welcomed and shown to a gleaming wooden table with comfortable high-back seating in a corner. I merely nod when Miles pulls out one of the chairs for me. While he orders a bottle of wine, I glance around the posh place at the other diners before settling my sight on the onion-shaped light holder in the middle of the table. To keep busy, I take the menu and scan through it. Another server shows up to take our orders. I’m not really familiar with South American cuisine. Although I want to choose the familiar ceviche, I decide to be adventurous and go for thecazuela.
Mile’s phone on the table beeps, and he picks it up, looks at it, and replaces it.
“Your wife?” I can’t help asking, managing to keep the snark from my voice.
He stares at me with intense eyes. “Giselle . . .”
“You don’t have to worry. You can pick up her calls.” I shrug. “I don’t mind. Just pretend I’m not here.”
He gives me a tight smile. “It will be hard for me to do that.”
I frown. “Why? Because I’m here? I don’t mind.”
“I meant talking to her would be difficult because—”
“Of me? Don’t worry, I’ll leave if you need some privacy,” I hastily cut in, although jealousy strikes through me. Better to get it all out in the open now and let him know that I don’t date married men, just in case he has something else in mind for this dinner meeting.
“It would be hard for me to talk to a dead person on the phone.”
My eyes widen like saucers as I gawk at him. “What?”
He nods as sadness creeps into his eyes. “I lost my wife five years ago.”
My hand dashes to my mouth in shock. “Oh, God. I’m such a bitch.”
He looks away for a moment before returning his gaze to my face. “You couldn’t have known. It was a devastating blow to me and my daughter. She was only five, barely able to understand what was happening. Somehow, I kept going and Ashlyn became my life.”
Sadness wells up inside me at what he must have gone through. I feel terrible for assuming, and for probably bringing back the memories of his late wife.
“It was true what I told you that night at the Mandarin, that I hadn’t had sex in a while. That’s because I don’t date. Bringing a woman into Ashlyn’s life when she hasn’t fully gotten over the death of her mom isn’t wise. She misses her dearly.”
From the despondent note in his voice, I recognize that he mourns his wife deeply.
“How did she die?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything further.
“Brain cancer,” he replies in a tight voice. “It was sudden. Nothing we did to save her or even elongate her life worked. Within six months, she was gone.”
I bite my bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. “I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions. I thought…”
He shakes his head. “It’s all right, Giselle. I understand. It’s only natural for you to think that way, especially as I didn’t leave my contact details before leaving the Mandarin that morning.”
I lower my head again to stare at the table. I really should have given him the benefit of the doubt and approached him and his daughter at the dance school instead of running away and imagining the very worst.
“I did that because I was unsure about things. Ashlyn has always needed my full attention, and I didn’t want to renege on that, even though I would have loved to see you again. I had to consider her feelings and the impact it would make on her if I brought another woman into her life.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he can’t go on like that. I want to tell him what I told Gabriel when he decided he wouldn’t have another relationship ever again. Someday, his daughter would leave home and he would be left alone. But I don’t want to sound like I’m fishing for a relationship with him, so I keep quiet.
He smiles briefly. “I hope you can remove the thought of me being a lowlife from your mind now.”
My face becomes beet red at his words. “Definitely.”
I wonder if it would be too forward to ask him where we go from here. But the answer stares me in the face when his daughter calls a few seconds later, and he talks briefly with her in an animated conversation about where he is right now and what he’s doing. Without mentioning me.
Our meals are served just as he ends the call. Silence falls between us as we enjoy the food. Now that I know I didn’t sleep with a married man, although I’m sorry for his loss, I relax. It’s obvious that, even though he enjoyed talking to me just as much as he enjoyed fucking me, he doesn’t want us to move forward. It’s painful, but I will have to accept it. Just like my brother, he puts his daughter first, and I’m not about to disabuse him of that notion.
It’s a shame he isn’t available for a relationship. He might have been a good boyfriend. Again, I realize I am still following my pattern of attracting unavailable men. But just like how I’ve been able to cope with previous disappointments, I’ll move on and forget about him. I really should take Jo’s advice, no matter how sad it seems.
