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She winces. “Let’s hope we don’t forget.” As those words come out of her mouth, I say a silent prayer that we keep our heads about us.
The alternative could be a train wreck.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PAIGE
I meet several men during the mixer, but I don’t have a chance to talk to any of them for long. Halfway through the evening, Trina pulls me aside. “I’d like to film you and Fielden. I have a good feeling about you guys.”
“He seems nice enough,” I tell her. In truth, I only talked to him for a couple of minutes, and I thought he was a little arrogant. But maybe that was just his defense mechanism. We’re all fish out of water here, and Trina warned us not to put too much stock on first impressions.
She points across the room. “They’ve just turned the lights on over by the loveseat in front of the window. Go sit down, and we’ll be right over.”
Even though I’m terrified to be going back in front of the camera, I’m relieved to be sitting this time. After hurrying across the room, I get busy finishing my champagne while I wait for Trina and Fielden.
When I finally see them heading in my direction, I take my time assessing Fielden. He’s tall, with dark, wavy, brown hair, and he’s confident in a way that makes him seem like he might be alittle reserved. Yet there’s a glimmer in his green eyes that suggests he might also be a lot of fun.
“We’re here,” Trina announces.
Fielden sits down next to me, but he doesn’t say anything—which is awkward.
Trina tells us, “We’d like to capture the two of you getting to know each other, so just pretend we’re not here.”
I wait for Fielden to say something, but when he doesn’t, I eventually speak up. “So, you’re a lawyer …”
“Yes, I am.”
Crickets.
“In Chicago?”
He nods his head and I notice his face is flushed.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
His posture relaxes slightly. “Very. How about you?”
“I never thought I’d do something like this,” I confess. “I thought love was supposed to be easier.”
“I always feel like women want to date me because I’m successful, and they’re looking for a meal ticket.”
I don’t know who he’s been dating, but that came off sounding derogatory toward my sex. “Maybe you’re not going out with the right women. I mean, surely there are intelligent gals out there with their own incomes. Fellow lawyers, for instance?”
His head tips back and forth. “Lawyers work a lot. If I date another lawyer, we’d never see each other.”
“So, you’re looking for someone to reconfigure her life around your schedule?” No wonder he’s only finding gold diggers. His expectations are unreasonable.
He cringes. “It sounds awful when you put it that way.”
“Women have their own lives, Fielden. If you expect them to put your interests first, then you’re going to have to compensate them in some way.”
“What, do you think I should Venmo them or something?” Now he sounds offended.
“No. But relationships are give and take.”
“So, what are you suggesting?” Fielden sounds like he’s on the verge of being angry at me.
“I’m just saying that if you want to be with someone who is an equal in all ways—including financially—you’re going to have to lower your expectations of how much time you can spend together. But if you want a woman to wait on you and live her life around yours, you might have to pay for things because she won’t be able to make the kind of money you do while keeping her schedule open.”
