Page 12 of Single Daddy To Go
“So he wants to go out with you. You were so excited before I googled him. Just pretend it didn’t happen if you need to.”
I shoot her a wobbly smile. I go back over to the mirror and look at myself. I tell myself that Haley is right. I remind myself that I’m beautiful on the insideandthe outside, and just as good as any supermodel. I square my shoulders, taking a deep breath in before letting it out.
I’m going on this date. What’s the worst that could happen? I suppose he could stand me up, but I’ve been there before. I can weather that. If it goes bad, nothing’s lost but some time I would otherwise have spent sitting at home. Okay, it’ll be awkward at school pick-ups, but I can handle it. And if it goes well, who knows? I shore up my confidence. I’m going to be ok, no matter what.
I put the finishing touches on my makeup and straighten out my hair. I add a simple necklace with a shell that my mother gave me after a trip to Tasmania. I smile at myself. I feel good, and IthinkI look good, or at least, as good as I’m going to get. I slip on a pair of low black heels and give Haley a hug.
“Wish me luck,” I say.
“It’ll be great,” she says reassuringly, flashing me an encouraging smile. “I probably won’t see you tonight, but I’ll see you in the morning. Good luck.”
“Stop it,” I scold. “We’re just going out for a couple of drinks. What are you implying?”
“Sure, okay,” she says with a wink. “Have fun girl. You only live once.”
I roll my eyes.
“Goodnight, Haley,” I say.
I take another deep breath and step out in the night, making my way to the subway. I feel really nervous, like some piece of me wants to turn back, but it’s too late. The wheels are already in motion. This whole thing is so crazy, but it doesn’t matter. I’m ready for whatever the night brings me, good or bad. Whatever happens, I’ll at least be able to say that I went on a date with a billionaire. If I getreallylucky, it’ll be a good date with a billionaire, but even if it’s bad, I’ll be able to say I was brave enough to do it. And that’s what’s important.
6
Ally
It takes me an hour and half on the subway to get to Bar Virage. I ride in silence, reading the subway ads over and over again while looking at bullshit on my phone and trying not to stress out about my date. I’d never really understood the expression “butterflies in my stomach” but now I do. It feels like a whole swarm of them is fluttering around in there.
I remind myself of my resolve to go through with the date, good or bad. I try to calm the slight uneasiness in my belly. I make myself remember how much I liked talking to Rob at the day care, before he asked me out. I force myself to stay present and not spin out stories about what could possibly happen tonight. It’s not in my control. Whatever will be will be.
The venue is a short walk from the 96ndStreet stop off the 6 train. The last time I ventured anywhere near this far uptown, it was to go the Met Museum. The night air is crisp as I walk past rows and rows of tall brick buildings with their deep red awnings and well-dressed doormen waiting in the foyer. I feel out of my element before I even step inside the bar.
The bar itself doubles down on the fish out of water theme. It’s so fancy, I feel like I shouldn’t even be here. My friends and I usually hang out at a couple of dive bars in Brooklyn, which are homey places where the bartenders know us and the drinks are cheap. I’m pretty good at pool and a whiz at darts. I always have a good time when I go out, but the places I go out are like a totally different universe from Bar Virage.
The lighting is dim, emanating from some overhead fixtures and wall sconces that look like pieces of modern art worthy of a museum. Red leather banquettes line the walls, occupied by patrons wearing fine suits and even finer evening gowns. The bar is a long piece of polished oak. I can see myself reflected in its sheen, my face distorted by the grain of the wood.
With trembling legs, I sit down on an empty bar stool, entwining my feet in the silver metal as I settle onto the red leather seat. The bartenders are dressed in fancy vests and ties, and doing bustling business. I glance at a drink menu laid out on the polished oak surface.
Wow. I’ve never seen a thirty dollar price tag on a cocktail before. To its credit, the bar seems to have gone to a lot of trouble to put together some seriously fancy drinks, featuring top shelf artisanal liquors and fresh ingredients, but still. Thirty bucks is alotof money. I hope that I don’t look as shocked as I feel.
I just sit there until one of the bartenders notices me. If I wasn’t waiting for Rob Lockhart to arrive, I’d think of the server as tall, but he’s got nothing on Rob. Anyway, he’s a tallish guy with a mustache and slicked back brown hair, expertly put together. “What can I do you for?” he asks me, his face open and friendly.
“Um,” I say, tentatively, feeling so out of place. “I’ll have a seltzer water.”
He nods. “Coming right up.” He doesn’t seem to notice that I don’t belong, so I relax a little bit.
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” a deep voice interrupts. It sends a shiver down my spine. I want to purr like a kitten, but I hold it in.
“Hello, Rob,” I murmur, turning to meet his piercing gaze.
He looks even more amazing than he usually does. He’s wearing a perfectly cut suit that shows off how athletic his body is, the strong bulge of muscle just visible beneath the tailored sleeves of his fine jacket. He cuts an imposing figure as he slides on the stool next to mine.
I’msoattracted to this man. I feel my insides turning to jelly. In fact, I might just melt into a puddle at his feet and call it a night. I’ve never felt like this before, and don’t really know how to handle it.
“Um,” I stammer, feeling like an idiot. “I like seltzer water?”
He raises one eyebrow. The gesture makes his face even more commanding yet amused at once, making my situation even worse. “You don’t drink?”
“Um, I do, I just...” I stop. What am I going say? I just can’t afford these drinks? He’s on the Forbes World Billionaires list. Thirty dollars is literallynothingto him.