cuisine at area restaurants.
But was Brett The One ?
Early on, he’d seemed like a good candidate, more so than any other guy I’d ever dated.
But lately? I’d begun to have some doubts. Still, I wasn’t sure whether those doubts
were real or I was merely confused by my intense, almost desperate, attraction to
Nick.
A life of wonder sounded great, but not if I spent the rest of my life wondering whether I’d chosen
the right mate, whether I might have been happier with another man, whether the man
I was with might have been better suited for a different woman. A life of these wonders
would be no life at all. I wouldn’t be doing Brett any favors by living a lie, either.
He deserved a woman who would give herself to him wholeheartedly. Until I was convinced
Nick wasn’t the better choice for me, I’d never be able to give myself entirely to
Brett.
I’d spent weeks slogging through this emotional wet cement. Frankly, I’d grown damn
tired of it. Yep, it was high time to pull myself out of the muck and take action.
Before I took a chance with Nick, though, I had to give Brett a heads-up, talk things
through, come to some sort of agreement on the terms of our trial separation. It was
the right thing to do. Plus, I wanted to make damn sure the door was left open with
Brett in case things didn’t work out with Nick. But would Brett agree to take me back
if Nick and I proved to be a bad match? Maybe. Maybe not. Nobody liked to play second
fiddle or be the fallback.
Still, dating at this age wasn’t just fun and games anymore. People our age were looking
for lifelong mates, someone to settle down with. It was only smart to do everything
possible to make sure that choice was made wisely, right? I hoped Brett would understand.
I broke eye contact with Nick and glanced down at my lap, trying to corral my rampaging
thoughts. Brett was coming over for dinner tomorrow night. I’d talk to him then. It
wasn’t going to be easy. Brett was a nice guy and the thought of hurting him made
me feel horrible. But the thought of Nick slipping through my fingers, of never knowing
what might have been, made me feel even worse.
When I looked back, Nick had turned to Josh, apparently taking my averted eyes as
a sign that I’d passed on his final offer. “Sign me up.” He pulled out his credit
card and plunked it down on the desk in front of Josh.
Josh quickly input the information, then slid the card back to Nick.
“Let me write your bio, too,” I told Nick.
He shrugged. “What the hell. You made Josh sound like James Bond. Go ahead. Take a
stab at it.”
I pulled the computer toward me and stared at the screen. How could I sabotage Nick’s
chances of meeting an attractive woman without making it obvious? After some thought
and tinkering, I formulated a bio sure to turn women off.
Avid sports fan and fishing enthusiast seeks a woman who is attractive, self-reliant,
and tolerant.
Any woman with half a brain would read between the lines and form a vision of Nick
as a guy who’d neglect his girlfriend in favor of watching ESPN and spending weekends
on the lake with his fishing buddies and a case of beer. Not to mention that the term
“self-reliant” implied he’d be a poor provider who’d expect her to go Dutch on their
dates and “tolerant” equated with “I don’t want to listen to any bitching about my
bad habits.”
Nick and Josh read what I’d written. I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping they wouldn’t
catch on to my subterfuge.
“You think it says enough about me?” Nick asked.
“Less is more,” I said. “Women like a little mystery.”
Josh handed me his phone to snap photos of the two of them for their profiles. Getting
a decent photo of Josh took several attempts. In the first, his open-mouth smile made
him look like the Gerber Baby. He looked pouty in the second. The third would do.
I snapped several photos of Nick, trying