Page 3 of Valentine's Day Daddy

She gets to her feet and blows me a kiss before bouncing out of my office with a throaty giggle. She leaves me sitting at my desk shaking my head and wondering how I can contract a communicable disease in the next couple of days.

2

“It was awful,” I say. “Just horrible. Remind me to never, ever, ever give my phone number out in a bar again. Like ever.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It was worse than that,” I reply.

My best friend and roommate Emma give me a sympathetic look then hands me a glass of wine as I take a seat at the other end of the couch. I pull one of our plush pillows into my lap then take a sip of the Merlot. Emma mutes the trashy housewives pseudo-reality show she was watching and snuggles under her blanket, her hands wrapped around her wine glass, and settles in to wait for my tale of woe.

“What happened?” she asks.

I let out a dramatic sigh and then take another drink of my wine to fortify myself. “First, he was twenty minutes late. He never explained or apologized—he just acted like he was right on time. Fine. No big deal, right?”

Emma grimaces. “It kind of sounds like it was.”

“It’s the principle. At least apologize for making me sit around waiting.”

“That’s fair.”

“Then, all he does is talk about himself. His job. His friends. His interests,” I go on. “I know more about his family than I should after a first date.”

Emma chuckles. “Being close to his family is sometimes seen as a plus.”

“He’s not close to his family,” I say. “He bitched and whined about how horrible they are and recounted at least six traumatic holiday memories for me.”

“Who among us doesn’t have traumatic family holiday memories?”

“That’s a fair point. But I don’t feel the need to trot them all out to somebody who, for all intents and purposes, is still a complete stranger,” I reply. “Those kinds of memories and the emotional trauma they bring up are more of a third or fourth date thing, don’t you think?”

“You’re so picky,” she says with a mischievous grin.

“Shut up,” I tell her, making Emma laugh.

She and I have known each other since we were children. We went through school together and I consider her the sister I never had. Growing up an only child could sometimes be lonely, but I knew my bestie was only a text message away, which made things infinitely better for me. After graduating college two years ago, I launched my career in advertising while Emma was making her bones and working her way up in the restaurant industry. She has dreams of one day being a world-renowned chef and likes to call herself the next Brooke Williamson.

“The kicker though, when we were done eating, he wanted dessert and after-dinner drinks, but I wanted to get the hell out of there, so I passed and asked for the check. I pulled out my wallet and told him I wanted to go Dutch,” I tell her. “And he puts on a big show of looking for his wallet and tells me he must have left it at the office! He said he’ll make it up to me and pick up the check on our next date.”

“Well, that seems fair. I mean—”

“Don’t make me kill you, Em.”

“So, are you saying there’s not going to be another date?”

“No. There won’t be another date,” I tell her. “In fact, I’m swearing off men altogether. I am taking a vow of celibacy and will never date again.”

“Never say never, Ash. One bad date—”

“One? One bad date?” I interrupt. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever had one good date.”

Emma grins. “Oh, come on. You had an excellent date for prom.”

“That’s true. And you remain my best date ever.”

Emma drains the last of her wine and then sets the empty glass down on the coffee table. She scoots forward and takes my hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You’re going to find the right guy, babe. I know you will,” she says. “Just don’t give up and don’t stop putting yourself out there.”

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