by Nella Tyler
It had started shortly after my son Brady had turned one. When I’d had Brady, my life had been completely and totally different to what it was now. I’d been married, thinking that I was starting a life and a family with the man I loved. I had actually believed when I’d gotten pregnant with my son that I was going to be with Alex for the rest of my life, that we’d grow old together.
Brady hadn’t exactly been an accident, but he had been sort of a surprise. Alex and I had talked about having kids, and I had stopped taking birth control, but we’d thought that it would take a few months for my cycle to clear out, for the hormones to get fully out of my system. That was what the doctor had told me. So when I’d gotten pregnant less than two months after stopping birth control, it had been kind of a shock—but one I was ready to embrace. At first, Alex had been, too; he had told me again and again how glad he was that we were getting it over with, getting started right off the mark. He had told me that he wanted to have two more after the first one, as long as I was ready for them. And of course, when we went to the ultrasound appointment where they told us Brady’s sex, he’d spent the entire week afterward beaming and bragging to all of his friends and coworkers that he was having a boy.
And then Brady had arrived. I’d had what they called an easy labor—and having heard all the horror stories myself, I had to admit objectively that it could have been a lot worse—and after six hours of waiting, and waiting, and holding back, and then pushing, Brady had come out of me: perfect, tiny, with a fuzzy head stained with blood from my body and ten tiny fingers and toes. He’d been just over seven pounds, and when he screamed out his first breath, I was immediately in love. I almost couldn’t make myself put him down, even though I knew I should. I nursed him, and loved him, and cared about him more than I had cared about anything or anyone else in my life.
I don’t know if things had gone bad between Alex and me before I even gave birth to Brady, but after I got home from the hospital, things started to go downhill faster and faster. Alex couldn’t understand why I was exhausted all the time; he came home and if I didn’t have dinner done and Brady quiet, he left right away, headed into town to meet up with his friends to grab a meal with them. He tried to paint it as an attempt to take the burden off of me, but I couldn’t help but resent the fact that he could come and go—and did—as he pleased, while I was more or less trapped under house arrest. And of course, Alex wanted to go back to having sex several times a week as soon as I had medical clearance to do so; but even though I felt more in control of my body, more sexual than I had in the last months before delivering Brady, I still needed warming up before I felt like actually having sex.
Everything went from bad to worse as the months went by, and it became obvious to me that Alex hadn’t actually been fully ready to have a son. Alex wanted everything to be the way that it was before Brady had been born, before I’d even gotten pregnant. He didn’t want to get up at night to feed the baby, he didn’t want to take care of Brady for a few hours so I could take a nap, enjoy a long bath, or maybe meet up with my friends for lunch or a cup of coffee. He barely even noticed Brady at all, in fact.
By my son’s first birthday, it had been obvious to me that it just wasn’t going to work. I’d been ashamed at first because I’d always thought that I’d have better taste, better discernment in picking someone to make a family with, and because I knew my family would think that it was at least partially my own fault. I wished that I could be what Alex wanted me to be, and what Brady needed me to be, at the same time, but when Alex barely even managed to show up for his own son’s birthday party, and barely paid attention to the party at that, I had known that I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to make a choice. And I chose Brady.
Alex didn’t cause much trouble in the family courts. He didn’t want more than token visitation rights and he was willing to pay child support. For my part, I’d told the lawyer that took my case that I wanted the bare minimum from Alex. I didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of him or that I was being given guilt money. I just wanted enough to support Brady. But of course, I wanted to support my own self. So I’d begun to look for a job.
One of my friends had suggested that since I was newly single, and since I was pretty and experienced in the world, I should sign up to be a dating coach. I’d thought she was out of her mind until I looked at the job posting; it was flexible hours, which of course I would need for taking care of my toddler son, and the pay was excellent. I’d studied psychology in college, though I hadn’t gotten my counseling license because I’d married Alex almost right after graduation and he’d had an excellent job that paid well, with good benefits, but I still knew the ropes.
After a questionnaire, four interviews, and a practice date with one of the other coaches and her client, I was onboard. I found that I actually liked the work. It was definitely better than working a call center or in retail, which at that point had been my only other options short of going back to school. After two years, I hadn’t found anyone that I personally wanted to date on my own—that was, my boss Katie had told me, one of the biggest dangers of the job—but I had gotten comfortable in my own skin and knew more than ever what I wanted in a man. As I settled in to wait for Zeke to arrive, I went over my standard first meeting questions in my mind and told myself that this would be the same as any assignment, maybe even a little better. Guys who knew how to take care of themselves were a lot easier to coach. I might even get a bonus if I could steer this businessman in the right direction faster than the projected timeframe.
That is, of course, if he takes it seriously. If he runs late, I’ll know he’s going to be the type that I have to be firm with from the beginning and lighten up later on. I checked the time; he had all of ten minutes before he was officially late to his first session with me, and I would absolutely note that down on my report. If he was more than fifteen minutes late, I could cancel our appointment with no fault, and I would get to go home to my little man early and bring him the treat I’d promised.
Chapter Two
Zeke
I felt a little nervous when I got to Greentree Café, but I told myself that was normal; I hadn’t been on a date with anyone at all in years, and even if this was nothing more than a practice date, it gave me the same feeling I got when I had to make a presentation to a prospective client cold. Except you’d better keep in mind that you’re the client this time, Zeke, I told myself as I walked up and opened the door to the café. I’d agreed to meet with Natalie here because it was within walking distance of my office; even if I’d had to stay a little late to finish up a few things, I’d figured it would be easy to dash out for the forty-five minutes that the date would last and then get back into the office building after if I had to. Fortunately, I’d managed to get all the work off of my plate before the end of the day, so when six-thirty rolled around, I was ready to change out of my suit and into a pair of jeans and a casual shirt. I had a name—Natalie Leathers—and I figured that I would see what she looked like when I got to the table where she was waiting for me.
The hostess at the stand in front of the café was cute: blonde, skinny, wearing the black skirt and white blouse that made up the café uniform. “Good evening,” I said, inclining my head towards her. “I’m meeting someone here—her name is Natalie Leathers. Has she arrived?”
The hostess consulted her book for a moment and nodded. “Ah, yes—I see right here,” the woman said, nodding again. She looked up at me and smiled. “She’s been here a little while, actually. I hope you’re not running late?”
“Just on time,” I said, smiling back at her. “Five minutes early, in fact.”
“Good job,” she said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you right over to her.” I followed the blonde as she stepped out from behind the hostess stand and started off across the dining room of the café, wondering which of the women at the tables was my dating coach. The matchmaking service had specifically kept me in the dark about what she would look like,
insisting that my coach’s attractiveness was immaterial to their ability to get me ready for actual dating. I’d gone with it; after all, if my dating coach was hideous, she’d at least be pleasant—or so I could hope. And, it was probably for the best if I wasn’t attracted to her.
The hostess stopped at one of the tables and I took a second to look over the woman sitting at it. She stood, smiling slightly. Dressed in a blazer, a nice blouse, and a pair of jeans, she looked completely casual and completely professional at the same time. Her red-brown hair was pulled back off of her face, tied back in some kind of bun. Even with the blazer on, I could tell she had a good figure: full breasts straining at the front of her blouse even though she’d chosen something that wouldn’t show cleavage, and the cut of her clothes made her slimmer waist and nice hips visible. “Natalie, I assume?” I said, holding out my hand for hers. She shook my hand and the smile deepened slightly.
“Nice to meet you, Zeke,” she told me. “Please, have a seat.” The hostess left us as I sat down across the table from my new dating coach.
“I have to admit,” I said, picking up the menu but not actually looking at it, “I did not have high hopes when it came to going on a date with someone who was supposed to coach me.” Natalie chuckled.
“Why not?” she shrugged, gesturing all around her. “I’m very good at what I do, and a lot of what we’re going to be doing is mostly just…sort of fine tuning the instincts you already have.”
“But if I have dating instincts already, how is it that I need your help to go on dates?” I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Everyone’s got instincts,” she told me. “But if you don’t use a particular kind of instinct for a while, your sense of it sort of deadens over time. You become a little bit numb to it, and learning how to put it to use doesn’t come automatically.”
“I’ve always been a very instinctive person,” I said. “And a quick learner. I doubt I’ll need more than a few sessions to get back onto my feet.”
“I’m sure both of those things are true,” Natalie countered. “But at the same time, I’ve been doing this for two years; I’ve worked with dozens of clients in that time. Generally, it does take some time before the people I coach are comfortable enough in the process to actually make proper inroads on dating someone.”
“I’ll have to hope to prove you wrong,” I told her with a grin, “and earn the dating coach equivalent of a silver star then.”
“I know you won’t believe me,” she said, her eyes gleaming, “but I actually hope you do. I love to see my clients succeed beyond my hopes.” She cleared her throat and glanced down at the menu. “Would you rather wait until we’ve ordered to discuss all the business details, or should we jump right in?”
“Let’s order first, so we don’t keep the waiter hanging,” I suggested. She is actually really cute. Thank God. On the other hand, she might be a bit distracting. Oh well; I’ll learn fast with someone like this to keep me on my toes, at least. I looked over the menu and picked something almost at random; I didn’t really care what I ate that much. Natalie ordered one of the specials—the steak-frites—when the waitress came to the table and told us about them, along with a glass of wine to go with my beer.
“So, let’s discuss the dates to come,” Natalie said.
“I’d love to,” I told her.
“First, we have to talk about the ground rules,” she explained. I wanted to pay attention, but the first few rules were so basic and made so much sense that I could feel myself beginning to tune out in favor of simply admiring what she looked like, the sound of her voice. “As long as we have that level of mutual respect, I think we’ll be fine,” Natalie said, wrapping up, and I nodded.
“Of course,” I agreed. “I absolutely respect your experience and expertise.” I started in on my meal—some kind of chicken dish with roasted potatoes and greens.
“Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way,” Natalie said, “is there anything you want to know about me?”
“What got you into this line of work?” That was something I couldn’t help but be curious about.
“I sort of got into it for the same reason you’re getting coaching right now. I wanted to meet new people.”
“You don’t date clients though, do you?” She gave me a look, one eyebrow raised as she ate a French fry.
“Rule number two: no romance between coach and client,” she told me a little tartly. “We’re going on dates together as practice for you, to get you back into the swing of things—not for either of us to fall in love with each other.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” I said, picking up my glass and taking a sip of my beer. “I remember that now.” I leaned in closer to her slightly. “But haven’t you ever been tempted, since you’ve been doing this for so long?”
She laughed. “Most of the guys that I coach are…” she took a quick, deep breath. “Rougher around the edges than you. Very, very few of them are tempting from my standpoint.” She cut a bite-sized piece of her steak, dipped it into her aioli, and popped it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she continued. “And doing this job has given me the great benefit of knowing exactly what I want in a boyfriend—assuming I ever find it.”
“What’s that?” I said, smiling to myself. She wants someone rich, good looking, and hung—that’s why she’s meeting so many guys like you through this date coaching thing.
“I want a guy who respects me,” she said. “Who cares about me. Who wants to share his actual life with me.”
“What about money?”
Natalie shrugged. “Money is nice, but it’s not the end-all-be-all. I’ve been with guys who have money—not rich, but comfortable.” She made a face, wrinkling her nose. She shook her head. She’s too cute for all this, I thought. Someone should snatch her up, give her a big house to take care of. “Respect, mutual love, those things are more important to me.”
“Are you sure about that?” I grinned. “Money makes the world go ‘round.” Natalie gave me another look, and I felt a jolt like electricity run through my body.
“If money took care of everything, then you wouldn’t be here, learning how to date properly.”
“Oh! Good point,” I said, waving my fork a bit. “Although you have to admit: money bought the service of you teaching me how to date properly.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” she said. “So, tell me: what are some of the things that you’re interested in?”
“Interested in?” I shrugged. “I haven’t really had much of an opportunity for a personal life.” I wracked my brain to try and come up with something, I had to admit that I had become boring over the years. “I like the usual stuff: movies, music, hiking, all that kind of stuff.”
“We can work with that,” she told me. “When do you want to set our next date for?”
“I set this up through my personal assistant,” I said, shrugging. “He can confirm all the details with you.”
“I would rather make sure that we’re in agreement on the date before we part ways,” Natalie said firmly. “It’s a good habit for you, even if you do have a personal assistant. The women you’ll eventually date will expect for you to make dates with them, not your PA. So best to get in the habit now, don’t you think?” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side slightly, and I smiled.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Next week? Do I have to pick a day now, or can I wait until I have my schedule to look at to confirm?” Natalie rolled her eyes, though her lips were still curved up in a little smile.
“Next week is fine,” she said. “I’ll get in touch to confirm the specific day, and we’ll go from there.” She gave me a longer look and pressed her lips together. “I really hope that you’re taking this seriously, Zeke. I would hate for you to be wasting your money and my time.”
“I am taking this all very seriously,” I told her. “We should order something for dessert, don’t you think?” I spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out what kind o
f woman Natalie was, and by the time we parted ways at the door to the café, I thought that it was a good thing indeed that I’d have a couple of months to get to know her. Good practice, anyway, at getting to know a woman who isn’t one of your employees, I thought to myself. As I walked back to the office to grab my car and head home, I couldn’t quite get Natalie out of my mind. Maybe it was because it had been so long since I’d dated anyone, or maybe she was unusually pretty and unusually confident in herself, but she struck me more than almost anyone I’d met in years. This could be interesting, at least, I thought as I put the night behind me and focused on getting home.
Chapter Three
Natalie
A few days after my first meeting with Zeke, I was at home, getting Brady ready for bed. It was one of the rare occasions when I’d had a full day off. While I only worked thirty hours a week, those hours were scattered between dates with coaching clients and meetings to discuss my clients, so it wasn’t often that I had a day completely and totally to myself. Brady and I had gone to his favorite park to feed the ducks, the zoo to look at the animals, and had ended at the library, where I’d helped him pick out his bedtime books for the rest of the week. He couldn’t quite read yet, obviously; he was only three. But I’d started reading him bedtime stories as soon as he started talking, and it had become part of the routine—something that I could have one of his babysitters or his grandparents do that was soothing for him even when I wasn’t there.
“All right, my little man,” I told my son as we finished clearing off the table. “It’s six o’clock, which means we need to start getting ready for bed.”