Page 38 of Monochrome Without You
Sarge’s hands shoot up in surrender. “Whoa. My bad.”
I exhale sharply, gripping my coffee like a lifeline. “Sorry. I just… everything that feels comfortable revolves around…”
“Corbin?” he guesses.
“Tate,” I correct. “I mean, I was more excited to see my son than I was to be on the date. That has to mean something, right?”
Sarge tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to read between the lines. “Did youactuallytry to get to know Trey? Or are you just gonna measure every guy against the great and terrible Corbin Banks?”
I roll my eyes. “I know Trey’s a tattoo artist. I know he thinks office jobs are boring and he’d never work one. I know he doesn’t want to have kids with the wrong person because he can’t imagine being tied to someone forever.”
Sarge snorts. “So, you picked up onallthe things you don’t like about him. What about the things youdidlike?”
I hesitate, biting the inside of my cheek. “He has kind eyes.”
“And?” Sarge presses.
“And he’s not bad to look at,” I shrug.
“Personality-wise, Jules.”
I sigh dramatically. “We’re both creatives.”
His eyes narrow. “And?”
“And… I don’t care about painting anymore,” I admit, my voice flat. “It’s not the best part of my life. Not like it is for him.”
Sarge exhales, leaning against the counter. “Did you eventryto like him?”
I scratch the back of my neck, a loose curl falling from my clip. “Not as much as I could have.”
His jaw tenses. “Jules…”
I hold up a hand, already knowing where this is going. “Look, I’m a single mom who works her ass off every day. I don’t know if someone who can’t evenfathomworking a nine-to-five is what I’m looking for.”
“Are you looking for someone to take care of you financially?” Sarge challenges.
I scoff. “I can take care of myself.”
“Exactly,” he counters. “That’s why I set you up with someone likeyou.Someone who works for himself, who’s not bound to some family empire, who wouldn’t give a damn if you showed up to a work dinner covered in paint. I didn’t set you up with some guy who’s gonna whisk you off to a mansion and shove you into cocktail dresses.” His voice lowers, pointed. “You didn’t even give him a chance to prove he’s a good guy.”
“I…” I trail off, knowing it’s useless. I didn’treallytry after Tate and Corbin showed up. If I’m being honest, I just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch with Tate, and watch a movie—just the two of us, like always.
Sarge sees right through me. “Alright, what was thebestpart of the date?” he asks, switching tactics.
Corbin’s hand under the table. The slow drag of his thumb over my thigh. The way my entire body betrayed me in that moment.
Yeah, definitelycan’tsay that.
I clear my throat. “Probably when Trey walked me back to the coffee shop. He started talking about his grandpa.”
Sarge raises an eyebrow. “So, youdidhave a good time.”
“I had anokaytime,” I correct, grabbing my coffee like it’s some kind of shield.
“You should tell him that,” Sarge says simply. “Go on a second date, Jules. You can’t really know someone after just one dinner.”
Maybe you do know what you want.But you’re too afraid to admit it to yourself.
