Page 92 of Two a Day
And two: even though she’s agreed to a date, this somehow feels like a breakup.
Chapter Two
Cara
There’s a fine line between too much and just enough.
Take frosting, for example. Too much and it overwhelms the cake, smooshing all over your face as you try to eat. The balance is wrong. It’s no longer fun.
That’s how I view dating. Too much and it can feel less like a recipe for romance, more like an over-frosted cupcake.
It’s difficult, messy, and not fun at all.
“But you really like the guy,” Taylor says as I sit at the bar, where I’ve arrived five minutes early for my next date with Patrick. She places a napkin with a glass of water on it in front of me, ever the polished bar professional. “Did you want to order a drink now or wait till he’s here?”
“I’ll wait, thanks,” I reply. “And I know. I do like him. We had this chemistry that was pure magic. And that kiss…” I sigh into my water and take a long sip. That kiss was one week ago, but it’s been replaying in my mind under the heading of Most Romantic Kiss Ever since.
“So what’s the problem then?” she asks, grabbing a glass from the dishwasher and polishing it.
“I just…” I shrug. “I guess I’m scared. When I started college, I dated this guy I met on campus. And he seemed perfect on paper—like we had everything in common.” I shudder at the memory. “Turns out that was because he’d researched my likes and dislikes. He turned himself into this mirror of me, and when I started to pull away, he wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“Oh, Cara.” Tay places a hand over mine. She’s a newer friend in my circle, but has rapidly proved to be a good one. “That must have been scary.”
“It was. He’d show up unannounced, text me all the time—he even followed me places a few times and tried to laugh it off, like it was just a big coincidence.” I shudder at the memory. “That’s all in the past now, but I guess it’s made it harder for me to take someone like Patrick at face value.”
“That makes sense, sweetie.” Taylor places the glass on the shelf and grabs another, running the cloth over it with practiced efficiency. “But not every man will be like your ex.”
“I know,” I reply, sitting up a little straighter. “Which is why I’m doing this. We’re taking things slow, and I’m taking a chance.”
And when Patrick walks into the bar, I’m so very glad I am.
At the movies, he wore jeans, but this evening he’s come straight from work. I didn’t know I was the kind of woman who cared what a man wore, but now that I’ve seen him in this tailored navy-blue suit, I’m rapidly becoming all about the three-piece,thankyouverymuch.
His dark eyes search the room, and when they land on me I feel it—thatzingthat thrilled through me when we laughed and joked on the beach.
He walks closer, a charming smile on his face, and when he kisses me on the cheek, it sends tingles to my toes.
“It’s good to see you again,” he says, pulling back and standing close to me, one arm resting on the bar.
Chemistry sizzles in the air between us. I place my hand over his. “It really is,” I say, and I’ve never meant those words so much.
Conversation flows between us and soon, one drink turns into two turns into coffee and cake—but I call it a night before I get too swept up in this man who seems to be okay with taking it slow for me.
One week later, we go mini golfing at a cute retro course. When I score my first ever hole in one, he lifts me up in the air, twirls me around, andwhoops like he’s never seen anyone whack a golf ball before.
On our next date, we go to a terrarium lab. As we layer rocks and ferns into little glass jars, creating our very own mini greenhouses, it feels a little like we’re building something else. Something bigger.
And more than a month after we first met, I can’t hold back any longer. He’s taken it slow for me. He’s given me the space and time I needed—but I can’t keep worrying forever. He’s not too good to be true—he is true.
And it seems like he’s mine.
I just have to take a chance on love.
Chapter Three
Patrick
One year later