. . .
Dahlia.
Marie said I could explain why I didn't reply during the dinner. I thought that made sense.
And then the trouble of selecting an outfit started. Where was he taking me? Could I ask him? Should I ask him? Would he even tell me? Well, he should. But did I want to know? Would I rather have it as a surprise?
And yes, this was my first date in about three years. I hadn't really dated anyone after Evan, and we had crashed and burnt just a month ago.
Evan.
I sighed as a bit of excitement (or anxiety, as I could truly no longer tell the difference), left me. I sat down on the bed and picked my phone up.
I went to his social media before I could stop my fingers.
Best wife. Best life. Followed by an emoji of a red heart.
Ew.
It was a picture of him sitting with his wife. They seem to be on a yacht, drinking champagne. The sun was setting in it, and everything looked so beautiful.
I wanted it to be you, Evan had once said. But it's business, Dahlia. We can still be... something. She doesn't have to know.
That told me just how highly he thought of me, and how much of a scumbag he was. I didn't know why I liked the guys who always thought they were better than me - in everything. That they knew better. I guess I just liked being treated badly, just because when they'd treat me well, even for a moment, it'd feel like heaven.
The cycle ends with him, I had promised myself.
What if Elliot was just like this?
He could be. He appeared to be rich. He was handsome. So there was nothing that was keeping him from being an asshole, or not having a personality.
But...
He just seemed right. Dangerous? Yes. But right too, somehow.
I was aware I was a bit stupid.
. . .
He appeared in front of the apartment building (not that I had been looking out of the window after every minute like a manic) two minutes before the time.
He got out of the car, and he was dressed in a dark suit. Nothing extra. He looked perfect. He walked into the apartment building.
I looked at myself in the mirror while Bobby and Vaness watched the television - probably another video of butterflies.
There was a heavy knock in just a few moments.
I looked at the cats. They looked at me.
I took in a deep breath. It's just a fucking date, Dahlia. Calm the fuck down.
I tried.
And failed.
I sat down on the chair for a moment, took two deep breaths, and then opened the door.
"I'm sorry," I said instantly. "I was in my room and couldn't open the door sooner."
He just nodded and extended his hand toward me. "Shall we?"
"Oh - yes. Just a minute. I need to grab some things. You can come inside."
I was talking too much.
He stepped inside, dwarfling the tiny apartment instantly. He looked at the cats. They looked back.
"Bobby and Vaness," I introduced them. "Don't sit near them. They aren't fond of strangers."
He gave me a short nod, eyes still on the cats. The cats didn't look away, not for a second. I rolled my eyes at them sizing each other up and walked to my room.
I walked out with my phone and my purse.
"I'm ready-"
Vaness snuggled into Elliot's neck and Bobby lay on his lap, getting his stomach scratched by him.
"What the fuck."
Elliot smirked at me, his one hand still working on Bobby's stomach. Bobby purred.
Did I need to take him to the vet? Why was he not biting him? He bit me if I ever tried to pet his stomach without him offering.
"I'm guessing you won the staring contest."
"I suppose I am just good with making anyone do what I want," he said and then gently shooed Bobby away. Bobby ran towards me, nipping at my heels. I looked at the little orange traitor but picked him up nonetheless.
"We should get going," he said as he stood, Vaness still clutching to him and purring lowly. What the fuck. Vaness was more welcoming than Bobby, but purring while cuddling with a stranger...
Either my cars had finally lost their shit living with me, or they had accepted Elliot Monet instantly.
I managed to get the cats distracted, something Elliot watched with amusement in his eyes, and quickly walked out after ushering Elliot out of the apartment.
"That was close."
I brushed a few orange hairs from my dress as we walked to the lift. He let me enter first. The lift was tiny. I could smell him. Since was cologue addicting? He smelled of something I couldn't think words for - a tad bit different than how he had smelled on my birthday if my blurry memory was to be believed.
"I got this for you," he said and took out a baby pink rose from his suit jacket. "I don't know what flowers you like, yet. But I hope this doesn't disappoint."
He extended it towards me. In his hand, the flower looked incredibly fragile. I looked up at him and his eyes were firmly on my face, looking for any speck of reaction.
I accepted it, unable to keep a tiny smile off my face. "I don't have a preference," I said. "Although..." I added, thinking what was the harm in letting him know one thing. "I like jasmine and lavender."
They helped with anxiety. But I didn't add that. There was a reason my apartment was flooded with lavender candles and my perfume, too, had the scent of lavender. I tried everything to calm myself down. I ended up failing more often than not if I was to be truthful.
Before long we were in his car, driving to wherever he intended to take me.
"Is it a public place?" I asked, gently running my finger on the petals of the rose. He briefly glanced at that and his hand flexed around the steering wheel. Then, I realized what that must have looked like and dropped the flower on my lap.
"It's not," he answered after a moment of tension which had me squirming in my seat for all the wrong reasons. "...is that a problem?" He added when I didn't say anything.
I thought about it and then nodded. "I don't know you much. I'd rather go to a public place."
He nodded and stopped the car on the side of the road. The roads were never busy, so it wasn't particularly dangerous.
"What are you doing?"
"I just need to send a quick text."
He took his phone out and typed something out. There was a reply instantly as the phone buzzed, and he looked satisfied.
He started driving again and before long we were pulling up in front of a very expensive restaurant in our sad little town. It was one of the few which made food in realistic portions.
He opened the door for me and extended his hand, just like last night. But I noticed something different...
He was extending his left hand. When he dropped me off that night, it had been his right.
Or maybe it had been his left and I was just remembering wrong. I set my hand on his and let him pull me out.
We walked into the restaurant and were in mere minutes led to a seat.
"You sent someone a text to get a reservation."
"No." We were nearing the back of the restaurant. "I don't need a reservation, Dahlia."
Who are you?
I hadn't googled his name, even though I should have. Maybe I just didn't want to know him through people. I wanted to know him by him. In the way people are supposed to know people.
The hostess opened a door.
Two men were sitting at the table, identical to each other. And I had never seen them before. They were both tall, with the same dark brown hair and slightly tanned skin. One was covered in a suit and the other had ditched his suit jacket. Both were inked and had the same tattoos as far as I could tell. They had to be one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. I instantly ripped my eyes away from them, thinking we had entered the wrong room.
But Elliot stood still beside me, and the hostess had walked away.
And there was another man too...
A man who looked just like the one I had beside me. Same eyes. Same scar. Same clothes.
I took a step back, almost about to collapse.
"Dahlia," Elliot...or not Elliot said. I somehow instantly recognized him as the one who had dropped me off, not the one beside me. "Please sit, we have much to discuss."
The door slammed shut behind me.
. . .
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