Page 61 of Seeds of Love
That, and the fact that the morning after our decidedly mediocre encounter (during which he called me “babe” exactly fourteen times), he’d looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes and said, “We should get dinner sometime.” Plus, he’s been asking Tara too, the guy is persistant.
And I, still half-asleep and feeling guilty about imagining someone else’s hands on me the night before, had said yes.
“The thing about Sarah is—” Dean starts again.
“Could we maybe talk about something else?” I interrupt, my patience finally snapping. “Like, literally anything else?”
He blinks, looking startled. “Oh, sure. Sorry. I just... she really got me, you know? She even baked me a carrot cake for my birthday. With cream cheese frosting. Made from scratch. The carrots were from a local market.”
I consider dumping my wine on his head. Instead, I force a smile. “How’s your research going?”
His face lights up. “Great! Though my workspace is a mess. Sarah used to help me organize everything. She color-coded all my clothes too. She’s really into the psychology of color—did her minor in it, actually. She says green promotes growth and?—”
“Check, please!” I call out, loud enough to make nearby diners turn and stare.
Dean frowns. “But we haven’t had dessert. Sarah and I used to split the green tea ice cream here...”
“I’m allergic to dessert,” I lie.
“Oh, I know this great recipe for allergy-friendly?—”
“I have to feed my cat,” I interrupt.
“You don’t have a cat. You mentioned that when I was over because Sarah?—”
“I just got one,” I say desperately. “Very needy. Might die if I don’t get home soon. Emergency situation.”
As if sensing my desperation, our server appears with the check. I practically throw my credit card at her.
“This was...” I struggle to find a diplomatic word, “...something.”
Dean perks up. “We should do it again! There’s this great coffee shop Sarah designed the interior for?—”
“I’m moving to Antarctica,” I blurt out. “To study... penguins.”
He looks confused. “I thought you were focused on soil composition and environmental restoration?” I think I’m on a date with the most oblivious man in Colorado.
“Career change. Very sudden. Probably leaving tomorrow.”
Outside, the January air hits my face like a slap, but it’s preferable to another minute of Sarah’s Greatest Hits. I start walking quickly, as if I can physically outrun my bad decisions.
“Alex, wait!” Dean calls after me. “Can I call you? Text you? You’re really pretty!”
“Sorry!” I yell over my shoulder. “No phones in Antarctica!”
I don’t stop power-walking until I’m safely back in my apartment. Tara looks up from her textbook, taking in my frazzled appearance.
“That bad?”
I collapse onto our couch. “Did you know that Sarah makes her own furniture? And designed a revolutionary window? And bakes carrot cake that would make angels cry?”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“Deans’s ex. The love of his life. His soul mate. The one who got away. The?—”
“Okay, I get it,” Tara interrupts, laughing. “So, not a love connection?”
I groan, burying my face in a cushion. “I should have known better. The signs were all there over Christmas. He has a Sarah tattoo.”
