Page 12 of Safer Alone
The question that takes over my every thought now, did I want to work with Elliot Sands? There were so many things to consider:
1. He lives in a completely different state from me, so I wouldn’t need to see him on a daily basis and the fact that I have been having these thoughts about him aren’t helping the situation
2. How would getting involved with someone who I feel this way about help my situation?
3. He no doubt knows that he is good looking, many girls have probably already told him so So he probably is either already taken, or he is a serial panty dropper. Therefore, it’s better for me if I turn him down.
On top of those three possibilities, there was one other thing I must consider, and that is the experience. I would see firsthand the renovations that he completes to the property and then keep those stored away in the memory bank for the future. A thought from earlier in the day decides to reappear at this moment. If I’m there for the whole process, when he goes to sell the property I could then get the listing and gain another commission, most definitely more than the one I will receive if I sell to Elliot now. The improvements alone will add value to the property.
There were so many things that I need to seriously think about. There were options ahead of me. There were both pros and cons for accepting Elliot’s offer. At the end of the day, though, there were only two decisions: do I say yes, or, do I say no? What on earth am I going to do?
look at my watch, time has slipped by while I have been thinking. It now reads 5:15 pm, which means that it’s not long now until I see him again. Calm down, Angela. You need to find something to wear. I close my eyes and take a deep breath then I open them again. It was time to start getting ready.
I knew The Hermitage was a five-star hotel, I also knew that meant I would need to dress up in order to fit in. Not being someone who needs to do this on a regular basis, I began frantically searching through my wardrobe and chest of drawers, looking for something appropriate to wear. Since I had worn my nice dress this morning, I decided that I couldn’t possibly wear it again, at least not tonight. I could save it to wear again at our next meeting, team it with different shoes and maybe a colored scarf. Being a guy, surely, he wouldn’t notice as long as it’s not the very same day? Then again, I could tell him I had other appointments this afternoon and hadn’t been home, that could give me an excuse. Why should I even give him an excuse? He doesn’t need an explanation from me. He won’t be getting one.
I look longingly at my old faithful jeans, wishing I could pull them on, knowing that they are no way appropriate, I leave them be and decide against the black dress that I am currently wearing. Instead I pull out a black pencil skirt, which sits nicely midway between my ankles and knees, it has a small slit at the back which allowed me to move with ease, especially when getting in and out of a car. Having decided on the bottom, I pull along the hangers searching for a top. I locate a deep plum satin blouse with short sleeves, two small slivers of material that tie in a bow around the neck.
Once I changed into my new outfit, I look to my feet. The black wedges from earlier today would work again tonight, as would the jewelry. I quickly pull one of my faithful black blazers from its hanger and lay it on the bed. I would decide at the last minute if I would take it or not. It is appropriate for the outfit; it would also keep me warm if the air conditioning was on a low temperature.
My make up only needs a slight freshening up. Ducking into the bathroom, I quickly apply a dusting of powder and a couple of sweeps of blush to my cheeks, finishing the process with another layer of mascara to my lashes. I look into the mirror and smile. I am good to go. Next, I brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash. Once I have finished rinsing my mouth I apply a slick of Chapstick to moisturize my lips. I will apply some color when I arrive outside of the restaurant. After pulling the hairbrush through my hair several times, my mirror shows me a reflection that indicates that I am ready to leave.
I make my way downstairs preparing to leave for the evening. As I take my seat in the car behind the wheel, I take out my phone and compile a short text message:
<: Mr. Sands, I’m on my way, see you at 6.
<: Angela White
I press the green send button and throw my bag and phone onto the passenger seat. Fastening my seatbelt, I insert the key into the ignition. Just before turning it on, my phone chimes, indicating that I have received a text message. I almost drop the phone when trying to see who it is from, it had to be from him, didn’t it? I open the message program and smile at the screen;
<: Angela, I’ll see you soon.
<: Elliot
He had used his first name; did that mean that he was giving me permission to address him as such at dinner? I’m overthinking this. It was just a text message after all. It’s quite possible he always replies with just his first name. After all, he is replying. I already knew who it was from.
Should I call him by his first name? Tonight, was a business dinner, after all; it was certainly not a date. I slip my phone back into my handbag, and began the drive toward The Hermitage.
The traffic is moderately light for a Sunday evening, so I make it to my destination with close to ten minutes to spare. I fish my lip-gloss out of my bag, apply a coat quickly using the rear-view mirror. Once my hands are free, I rake my hands through my hair nervously and make sure I don’t have any black flakes under my eyes from the mascara. Taking two deep breaths, I open the door and step. Looking down, I pull my skirt down, it had a habit of riding up my legs while I was driving. With my handbag in one hand, I look toward the hotel. Placing a smile across my lips, I take my first step towards the beginning of this evening.
I walk as calmly as I can manage through the automatic front doors of The Hermitage Hotel and make my way towards the vacant front lectern of the restaurant and wait patiently till I see the maître d’ approaching,
“Good evening. What can I help you with tonight ma’am?” Maybe it is my insecurities, but I feel as though he is looking at me as though I didn’t belong here in his restaurant. My clothes aren’t designer label and I’m not dripping in expensive diamond jewelry.
“Um, hello, I’m actually meeting someone. I don’t think I can see them. I’ll just sit here and wait for them to arrive.” I turn on my heel and walk away before he has a chance to reply; I also didn’t want my blush to get the better of me. Looking at my watch, I was two minutes early. I choose a spot to sit and relax into the leather couch just a few steps away from the entrance to the restaurant. This would allow a good view so I would see when Elliot comes my way.
I hang my head, lifting my hands on either side of my face. I begin nervously playing with my earrings, twisting them around once clockwise, then again back around the other way. I know in my heart that I shouldn’t be here, I don’t fit in. Why on earth did I agree to this? I should have stood my ground and said, “No, I’ll call you.” Instead, I found myself unable to do so, and now here I am.
I don’t know what it is about him that has a certain attraction to me. Sure he is gorgeous. Any women with eyes would no doubt tell you the same thing. If it came down to just looks then I would tell you about my friend James. He, too, is incredibly good looking and into me, yet when he asks me if I would like to have dinner together, I usually come up with an excuse. I tell myself that I really should say yes to him next time. He is perfect for me, and he clearly likes me, after all. I see the way he looks at me, the way he brings me a cup of tea at work. There are so many benefits of choosing him. He lives here in town, so we can get together and catch up often, I guess the only downside is working together. When it doesn’t work out I would have to see him each day. Yes, I did say “when.” It’s not a matter of “if.” It’s a definite disaster waiting to happen. Me and relationships just don’t work. That’s why I can’t go there with him, I can’t ruin our friendship like that.
Possibly, that’s the reason why I agreed to this dinner with Elliot tonight. Deep down I know this isn’t going to lead anywhere. What tonight will offer is a chance for me to at least enjoy a nice meal and some adult conversation. I will also decide if I want to agree to his offer or decline. There is then the added bonus of being able to gaze into his beautiful eyes some more. My mind starts to wander. I imagine him holding me in his arms, his eyes meeting my own, staring at each other, his mouth turned up into a smile while gazing down at me.
There I go again, having these thoughts about someone I will never have is just silly. If I’m not careful I could end up saying out loud something that I am thinking and make a complete and utter fool of myself. Therefore this is dangerous. I can’t let this go any further. Maybe I can just get up and leave, send him a quick message letting him know I’m sorry but I had to head off, emergency of some description. Shaking my head, I have come to the realization that I can’t do that. I may be a lot of things, but cowardly isn’t one of them, it’s only a couple of hours at the most. I just need to get through dinner and then I can leave.
I kept repeating that mantra through my head: “you just have to get through dinner, you just have to get through dinner.” All I can do is to see how it goes, maybe he may give me an indication to what he is feeling. If he goes ahead and purchases the property, then that’s one hell of a positive. If he doesn’t, then this will be the last time that I will see him and therefore I won’t need to make any decisions tonight, so why not just try and enjoy myself? It will be back to my boring life tomorrow. No more chances of running into a multi-millionaire and having a dashing, wealthy young man enter my life here in Nashville. Unless I go back to the life I left behind in New York. And that certainly isn’t going to happen.
When I take my head out of my hands and look up, that’s when I spot him walking toward the restaurant, looking as handsome as I remembered. Black cotton dress pants, polished black dress shoes adorning his feet and pressed, pale blue button-up collared shirt, there is no tie and I see that his top button is open.
In that moment, his eyes meet with mine and he smiles. I feel my breath catch in my throat, and my insides melting. Is it possible that he’s even better looking now than he was when I saw him earlier this afternoon? It had only been a couple of hours. I can see from the corner of my eye two ladies ogling him and following his every step, anticipating where he is going, when he stops in front of me, one of them allows her mouth to drop open in disappointment. I fight to keep a smile from forming on my lips, that’s right ladies, he is here with me.
