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“How did that conversation even come up on a first date?” He is cackling and I’m not even annoyed by it. This situation is so messed up I can’t begin to make sense of it.

“Well, there won’t be a second date. That’s for sure.” I’m firm on this point. I don’t want him to push in that direction.

“Yeah, I got that. Are we going back to any of the previous ones? Is there someone that you’re at least comfortable with?” He tries to test the waters.

Matthew and I have been friends for years. He knows me well enough to understand that I won’t compromise on something like this. I frown and study him to see where he’s going with this conversation.

“Or,” I counter, “we don’t push our luck and we stop having this conversation. Maybe this is a sign that this whole dating thing is wrong, and we shouldn’t go on.”

“Shit, Raphael! Since when do you believe in signs?” he snaps, and I’m taken aback. It’s not like Matthew to lose his cool like this.

I arch an eyebrow and pin him to his seat with a stern look.

“Sorry. It’s just that the endorsement Johnson gave you was good. It was the push we needed to fight back. But it’s not enough.”

I nod. I know he’s worried this campaign will tank, but I can’t just decide to make a life with someone where there’s not even the slightest connection. Growing old in a loveless marriage is an awfully long time. Even a year is too long for me.

“How’s it going after that endorsement? I haven’t had time yet to read the report you gave me today.” My words come out less aggressive than before.

“Great, we’re back in a comfortable zone. Not winning hands down, but fairly competitive for the final leg of the campaign.” His shoulders relax and I let down too. If he’s confident, I’m confident. I trust him with my life.

“So, why are you pushing this wife thing?”

He’s calm but firm. “Because you need one if you want to climb this damn ladder. Do you want to reach the top or not? Because if you don’t, or if it’s too much for you, just tell me now. I can’t keep wasting your time, my time, and your resources on something that will never happen. It’s not fair to anyone working for you.”

I appreciate his frankness, it helps put everything in perspective, but sometimes people just ask way too much of me.

“I know that, and there is no doubt where I want to go. But it’smylife.Iam the one that has to wake up in the morning next to a person I feel nothing for. While you get to raise your kids with the woman you love,Ihave to fuck and impregnate someone I don’t care about and who doesn’t give a shit about me. Because they won’t stop at my marriage, and you know it. They willdemandkids, a dog, and a fucking house with a picket fence. So, excuse me if I don’t pick one of the first twelve women they serve me on a silver platter. I’d prefer to look elsewhere if I can’t find a connection with any of them.”

Matthew has the decency to look embarrassed and lower his gaze to his hands folded in his lap. The silence that follows is almost deafening. “Sorry. We’ll look for someone else. Forget I even suggested the other thing.” He finally looks at me and his apology is sincere.

I look out the window and suddenly realize we’re not heading home. “Where are we going?”

The grimace on Matthew’s face is not reassuring. “Jen called. She asked to meet her at the nightclub.”

“She called you?”

“You weren’t picking up.”

I rub a hand over my face and sigh. “I need caffeine if I have to go through this too. Can we stop at the café next to the nightclub?”

Every thought of our conversation disappears as soon as he mentions Jen’s name. She’s part of a past I want to forget but can’t, even if it sometimes kills a part of my soul.

Five minutes later, we enter the café. There are few customers at ten in the night, but enough to attract a few insistent glances. I sweep my gaze over the faces seated at the tables. Someone recognizes me, or they’re just surprised seeing someone in a suit and tie, or maybe they’re staring at Dave, the massive bodyguard towering over everybody in here.

A loud conversation grabs my attention and I look toward the counter. A redhead I recognize as a bartender from the nightclub is waiting for the barista to make her order. She is gorgeous with her flaming red hair and pouty lips. Even in leggings and a sweatshirt, she’s the sexiest person in here. Maybe it’s because I always see her in lingerie, and I know what she’s hiding under those clothes, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

I don’t recognize the man next to her, the loud one who attracted my attention. He is way closer to her than a normal acquaintance should be and the girl seems uncomfortable. She’s staring ahead and flinches every time he taunts her with a question.

“Come on, give me your number, I promise we’ll have a good time,” he insists for the third time.

She closes her eyes and lets out a slow breath. When she opens them, she seems more determined. “I’ve told you a million times, I’m not interested. Not now, not ever.”

She tries to keep her voice down, but we’re close enough to hear everything. The kid behind the counter looks in their direction with a worried expression. No doubt comparing his size to the man bothering her and isn’t sure if he can take him if it comes to that.

I look at Dave, then at Matthew. All of us assessing the situation, trying to determine if we need to intervene.

“Why? Your pussy is too good for someone like me?” he sneers.