A Year to Remember (7 page)

Okay, so far I had determined he lied about his height by at least six inches and his weight by one hundred pounds. He hadn’t had the courtesy to call and inform me he’d be late. He hadn’t lifted his gaze from my chest once. To top it off, he lacked acceptable grooming practices.

“Should we find a couple of seats?” I asked, hoping to manipulate his gaze to the room and off my body.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not average weight. You fall more into the voluptuous category.”

“So because in your opinion I’m voluptuous, we can’t sit? Do I need to point out that you lied on your own profile? Since you’re shorter than me, there’s no way you’re five foot ten and you hardly qualify as average weight yourself,” I ranted, unable to contain my anger one minute longer.

That got his attention, his eyes lifting from my chest to meet mine. In his eyes were tears.

Crap, I made the little leprechaun cry.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just been a very long day.” And an even longer night since meeting him, but I kept that part to myself.

He wiped his tears and his nose on his sleeve. He stopped crying and resumed his gawking at my chest.

“You can make it up to me. Why don’t you come back to my place for a little somethin’-somethin’?” he suggested with all the class of a fifteen-year-old horn dog.

For a moment, I just stood there, my mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies, until I realized he might take it as an invitation to stick his tongue in my mouth.

I wanted to act like Carrie from
Sex & the City
and throw my drink in his face. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself and at this point, I really needed a drink.

Instead, I forcefully grabbed his chin and raised it.

“Stop staring at my chest. It’s degrading and improper, and I deserve better. This is not going to work out Jacob. I wish you the best.”

In order to make a clean getaway, I resisted the urge to down my glass of merlot and stormed off. Rushing to my car, I failed to notice the patch of ice on the walkway. Before I could stop, I landed flat on my back to the sound of my skirt ripping.

Honestly, I didn’t think things could get any worse, until a looming figure appeared over me, laughing.

“Need some help, Sara?” asked Goldman, reaching his hand out to help me up.

Of course, Goldman had to be present to witness another one of my most humiliating moments.

Still, I could use some assistance, even if it came from someone who would hold this over me until the day I died.

“If I say yes, would you promise to keep this to yourself?”

He pretended to consider my proposal, rubbing his fingers on his chin like a nefarious villain. At least I hoped he was pretending.

“Deal.” He crouched next to me, taking my hand and placing his arm under my back.

One moment I lay on my back, and the next, Goldman had me on my feet with his arm still around me and my hand in his. I quickly yanked myself out of his grasp, embarrassed I required support from my brother’s best friend.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, a blush no doubt staining my cheeks as proof of my mortification.

“Anytime,” he teased with a twinkle in his eye. “What were you doing here anyway?”

“I had a date with someone from JDate,” I reluctantly divulged.

“I take it from your voice it didn’t go too well?”

“You could say that. I spent five minutes trying to have a conversation with the guy, and he spent most of it staring at my chest.”

Goldman erupted in hysterics. “Ah, I see you met the lucky leprechaun.”

“In the flesh. I understand why they call him a leprechaun, but why do they call him lucky?”

“Other than the fact he’s the spitting image of the Lucky Charms’ mascot? He’s one of the creepiest guys out there, and he still manages to get girls to date him.”

“You mean women like me that meet him for a first date only to run in horror?”

“No, I mean he usually leaves with them. The guy gets laid more than anyone else around.”

As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t conjure the image of a girl desperate enough to sleep with the little creep. On second thought, why did I even want to conjure that image?

“I’ve never met a bigger pig in my life and that’s saying a lot, considering the type of friends my brother has.”

The smile rapidly left Goldman’s face. I cursed myself for momentarily forgetting he and my brother have been best friends for more than fifteen years.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.” Actually, before the last week, I would have exactly meant Goldman. He’d started to grow on me and for the first time, I could see what my brother must see in him.

“Yes, you did, and you’re right. I use women as playthings. I don’t call them after I sleep with them, and I have no intention of ever mending my wicked ways.”

I don’t know why that shocked and disappointed me, but it did. I guess I assumed from his emails he might be a good guy underneath the image he projected to the world. Apparently, I was mistaken. Lord knows, it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

You would think a psychologist with seven years of college and almost five years of practical experience would understand the male psyche just a little better than I did. I better plan on sticking with teenage girls as clients, because obviously, I was hopeless when it came to understanding men.

“Is that what you’re doing here? Trolling for your next plaything?” I tried to make light of it, but my tone couldn’t conceal my true feeling of disgust.

“Monday night is Ladies’ Night at O’Leary’s. Since women get drinks half off, more of them come and guys like me follow like a dog in heat.”

“Well good luck. Let’s hope you don’t end up with fleas.” With my parting shot, I stomped off to my car, leaving Goldman standing alone in the falling snow.

“It’s very good.” I watched him swirl the wine in his glass and sniff it before taking the smallest of sips.

“Yes it is, but unfortunately, not as good as the 2006 Elderton Shiraz. Alas, they do not store it in their wine cellar here. We will have to endure the 2005.”

I nodded in agreement, not anxious to let on I knew nothing about wine.

“Your table is ready. Please follow me.” In addition to the menus, the hostess held a whole bottle of Elderton Shiraz 2005 in her hands.

“That vintage may only be purchased by the bottle.”

I tried to relax telling myself a bottle of wine could only run about twenty dollars, so it would be cheaper to buy it by the bottle rather than by the glass.

I had to admit, the table under the stairs was romantic. The owners had converted the 1820’s farmhouse into a restaurant two years ago, maintaining the general structure of the building. Lit by candlelight, the shadows of lovers on the walls, I found myself enchanted by its elegance. The fact a curtain separated our table from the rest of the room both frightened and intrigued me. Obviously, Steven was a romantic at heart, a rarity in heterosexual man.

Violin music played quietly in the background as we drank our wine and conversed about theater and music, both interests of mine and his as well. He divulged he had season tickets for both the symphony and the opera, but it was difficult in today’s world to find a woman with similar interests. As much as I enjoyed classical music and opera, I had never attended a live performance and I imagined Steven and I frequenting the venues in style, Steven dressed in a tuxedo and me in a ball gown.

He ordered two appetizers to go with our wine, while we pondered the menu for our dinner selection. Three hours later, I could barely move after dining on mussels in wine sauce, tomato salad, beef tenderloin in a mushroom sauce with fingerling potatoes and asparagus, rich chocolate cake, and cappuccino.

I had never enjoyed a first date more. Come to think of it, I don’t think I enjoyed any date more than this that didn’t end with sex. Although I could easily imagine myself in bed with Steven, I had promised Missy I would follow the four dates rule.

It was nearly midnight by the time our waitress brought the check to our table. It sat untouched for a few minutes, before I made my obligatory move to review it. Sure enough, Steven grabbed it back from me.

“Since I chose the restaurant, I insist on paying for the both of us.

“All right, thank you. I’ll pay next time,” I informed him, hoping there would be a next time.

“Your offer to pay is a lovely sentiment, but I will happily pay for our next date as well. I assure you your presence and conversation is worth every penny to me,” he said, causing a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. He actually said there would be a second date!

I sat back, smiling, as he put his hand in his pocket. When his hand came out empty and he checked his other pocket, I knew he’d forgotten his wallet. I’d only brought eighty dollars in cash, but luckily I had a credit card for emergencies. This was obviously one of those emergencies.

“I’m sorry, Sara. I must have left my wallet at home. I was in such a rush to meet you I foolishly failed to ensure I had my wallet. I hope you’ll forgive me, and I promise to make it up to you on our next date.”

Since I expected to pay for my half, what did it matter if I paid for both of us? Especially in light of the potential for further dates consisting of romantic dinners and seats at the symphony. He would make it up to me.

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.” I snatched the check off the table.

My heart sank.
Oh my God!
The bottle of wine cost $110 dollars alone! Between that and our appetizers, meal, and dessert, the bill totaled over $300, not including tip. I didn’t spend this much on groceries for the entire month!

After paying the check, Steven walked me to my car. It started snowing again, but tonight I didn’t mind. As the snowflakes fell, Steven bent his head to kiss me.

Other than the fact he immediately stuck his tongue in my mouth, the kiss was quite good. My body responded to the kiss, and I felt warm, even though it was only fifteen degrees outside. A minute later, we finished our kiss and I unlocked my car door.