Page 63 of Love is Blind

“You lost your daughter,” I whisper. That trumps everything.

“Yeah, I did, that’s why it’s easy to recognize the pain in someone else’s eyes. I’ve seen people dress up fucking poodles and parade them around in baby carriages. Oreo was a part of you. I saw it last night when you spoke about him. Gutted you to lose him.”

It did and I blame myself for what happened to him. All those years he kept me out of harm’s way, and in return I led him straight to his death. How is that fair?

“You don’t got to tiptoe around me, babe. I know I’m not the only one to lose a loved one.”

Just then the waiter returns, setting down our meals—two sparkplug burgers. The sorrow that I felt only a moment ago fades a little and a faint smile creeps across my face. The spark I felt that first night flickers inside my belly making it know that it’s going to be a recurring thing.

I finish off my margarita and I dig into my burger. Neither of us say much, but I don’t try to read too much into it.

“How’s the burger?” he asks, breaking the silence.

I’m about to tell him it’s the best thing I ever ate, when I hear a female voice call his name.

“It is you!” she exclaims. I can tell by how loud her tone is that she’s exactly where the waiter stood when he took our order. Quickly feeling around the table for a napkin, I wipe my face and turn toward the sound.

“Cathy,” Ghost clips.

“I was wondering if I’d ever see you again. You kinda just disappeared on me.” He doesn’t respond, then she says, “Hi, I’m Cathy.”

I flash a smile in the direction of which her voice sounds, but I don’t have a chance to tell her my name because Ghost slams his fist against the table, rattling the dishes and knocking over his beer. I lean away from the table to avoid anything getting on me and turn toward him.

“Jesus Christ, Ghost,” I hiss, gritting my teeth. “Why the hell did you do that for?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

I turn to Cathy and cut her off.

“You’re fine.”

“Leave. Now.”

I don’t know if Cathy leaves at his command. If it were me, I’d throw his drink in his face—well, I would if he didn’t already knock it over. The waiter appears and quickly cleans the mess and Ghost asks for the check.

“If you were going to ack like this why did you even bother asking me out?”

“She was holding out her fucking hand to you,” he growls.

“So? Contrary to what you seem to believe, people can’t tell I’m blind just by looking at me,” I spat. Spark or not, he’s doing the one thing I despise more than anything—he’s letting my disability define me.

“Cathy saw us walk in,” he grinds out. “The girl knew you couldn’t see her fucking hand. She only offered it to you to make a fool out of you.”

I raise an eyebrow and cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

“Right,” I snap. There’s only one reason a woman would go through the trouble to make another feel small. “You slept with her.”

“Once,” he confirms. “Then I did what I do fucking best and ghosted her ass.”

Shaking my head, I frown. I guess that explains his name and I’m willing to be it also explains the margarita suggestion.

“Why did we come here?”

“Because here no one knows my story. I’m not the guy whose kid drowned in a tub,” he grates. “No one looks at me with fucking pity. I’m just the biker rolling through.”

I smack my lips together, letting his words sink in. That might’ve been true until tonight.

Things didn’t get too much better after he paid the check. Figuring he was shot of me, I thought we would head back to Knightdale straight away, but Ghost said there was a boot store in the next shopping center he wanted to check out, and now we’re walking over there…in silence.

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