“How do you know I’m single?” She challenges, recovering fast.
“Well, you’re out on a date with me right now.”
“A fake date, which is not a date at all. I’d like to think of it more like a dress rehearsal or an experiment of sorts.”
“Good to know I’m your lab rat. Anyway, it’s still going out with a guy. No other guy would think it was okay.”
“Even if it was for work?”
“Nope. Not a chance.”
I think then, about what it would be like if this date was real and Rowan was my girlfriend. I don’t imagine things like how the date would end and if she’d invite me up to her apartment or not. Instead, I think about what it would be like to take her somewhere she hasn’t been before. To watch her eyes light up and her face come alive with wonder at seeing an amazing piece of art or at hearing a touching piece of music. I imagine her laughter, real laughter—the kind that gives you tears in the eyes and makes your abs hurt. I imagine what kind of stores she’d drag me into if she had the chance, and her delight at finding yet another one of the retro dresses she obviously loves.
I imagine cooking something together, eating it after, doing things—basic life things. I imagine how thrilled my mom would be. She’d love her; I know that. My dad would probably love her, too, because I’m sure Rowan can talk to anyone about anything. It wouldn’t be long before my parents loved her more than they loved me, and that would be just fine.
I hate imagining stuff like that, and not just because it’s inappropriate. I hate it because all that shit is well and good and might happen, but then the inevitable fallout comes. I imagine us fighting, hurting each other. The ugly parts where the other person takes and takes, and one person tries to fight it and fails. And the one where both parties damage the other beyond repair. Essentially, I imagine failure and the shitty ending, which all relationships have to have because shit just doesn’t work out anymore, and people are usually too selfish and shitty to put in the time and effort and care.
I swallow hard and slide the books off the table. I set them on the seat beside me. “Great. Thanks.” I force a smile, but I can tell Rowan’s not buying it.
“I don’t have to currently be in a relationship to be good at my job,” she informs me. It’s not snarky or biting. She’s just talking now. “I’ve been doing this for a while now, and I am pretty good at helping people. At least, so my track record says. I’m trying to give you the resources to succeed. And no, it’s not just because I want to keep my job.”
“Why would you lose your job?”
She fidgets uncomfortably. “Uh, well, my boss can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, and he basically said that if you or your mom isn’t happy with the results of this, then I’m done.”
“That’s quite harsh.”
“Yes, the company charges quite a bit for their services, and we like to have a good track record. I’ve had a few of my clients who were unhappy this past year, and I guess my boss figured it was enough. I’m sure he’d fire other people too if they weren’t bringing money in.”
“So, if someone isn’t happy with the services, they get a refund?”
“Not exactly. Okay, so they don’t, but it’s bad publicity because they’ll tell everyone how unsatisfied they were. Anyway, I shouldn’t have told you about maybe losing my job. It doesn’t really matter. I’m pulling out all the stops on this one because you’re one of the first clients I’ve had who actively doesn’t want to succeed, and I think you need to change your mind about all of this.”
“This? This process or about dating and relationships in general?”
“Everything.” Rowan gives me a mysterious smile that I spend a few minutes trying to decode.
I realize the smile is because she noted that the kitchen, which is to my back, has our food ready, and she saw our waitress coming. She digs in as soon as her plate is set in front of her. I can’t help but watch her discreetly while she’s eating.
This. Woman. There is something about her that is just… refreshing. She maintains eye contact. She speaks her mind, but without being rude or mean. She actually wants me to succeed—I can see that now. It’s genuine. It’s not just about her keeping her job, although I’m sure that’s a huge motivating factor too. Knowing all of this makes me feel just a little bit softer where she’s concerned. I guess we’re in this together. We could both lose our jobs if this doesn’t work out.
Rowan is decidedly herself, and that’s refreshing too. She has her own style. She’s not afraid to be who she is. She’s confident. Classy. And she has no problem devouring a monster-sized sandwich with complete and utter abandon right in front of me.
I wouldn’t be lying if I said that something about Rowan makes me want to believe that happiness and even love are possible with another person. Whatever. It’s not like I’m ever going to do anything about those thoughts, because thoughts are often irrational, and I know they don’t dwell in reality.
I have a thousand things I can think of to say, and out of the thousand, only a few are appropriate, but I don’t let even those few out. Instead, I lapse into silence, wondering if this is comfortable silence or if I’m going to be accused of being creepy again.
CHAPTER 6
Rowan
I have to admit; tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. We
