Blind Date

by Bella Jewel

I cock a brow, and throw a hand on my hip. “Introduced yourself to our other neighbor, did you?”

  He looks up to the ceiling, as if trying to gather himself. I take the chance to look him over. Casual blue jeans, a tight-fitting gray tee, no shoes. Damn. Hot. “She brings me”—he clears his throat, looking back to me—“cookies.”

  I snort. Lena is kind like that. Every time she bakes, she brings me something, I guess she brings him some, too.

  Smothering a laugh, I say, “Well, it wouldn’t have killed you to come and say hello to me, or hell, just a nod would have been nice.”

  He makes a grumbling sound, and wiggles the milk jug a little, as if trying to bring my attention to it. “Still going on about that?”

  Hmmm. He’s right. I really need to let it go.

  I cross my arms. “I told you I wasn’t going to lend you milk, or sugar…”

  The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Well, I’m askin’ you to borrow some. Are you going to give it to me, or do I have to go back and tell my mom, who drove twelve hours to see me, that my neighbor didn’t want to lend me milk because I didn’t say hello to her?”

  Smart-ass.

  * * *

  Damn him. I can’t deny his poor mother, even if I want to throttle him.

  “I’m sure your mother would be appalled by your lack of manners. I’m very certain if I told her how rude you are, she’d probably give you a stern talking to.”

  He grunts. “Are you this annoying to everyone you meet, or am I just lucky enough to get all of it?”

  I raise my brows. “Do you want that milk or not?”

  There goes that jaw muscle again. “You know how far the store is from here, so that would be a yes. I didn’t come here to chat.”

  “That’s obvious,” I mutter. “You could, at the very least, say please.”

  He inhales through his nose, and then bites out a “Please.”

  “There now,” I say, snatching the jug out of his hand. “That wasn’t so hard.”

  I turn and strut into my apartment, feeling pretty good about my little remark. Taylor wiggles her brows as I go past, a cheeky grin on her face. “That was kind of funny. I didn’t know you two even spoke.”

  I shrug. “We don’t. I’ve just called him rude, on more than one occasion.”

  “You didn’t share this with me!” she whisper-yells.

  “Soon,” I whisper-yell back. “He needs milk.”

  I get him his milk, and then close the fridge, walking back to the door where he’s still standing, staring through the space and into my apartment. I thrust the jug at him and look at him expectantly when he takes it from my hands. “You should really get your locks changed, they’re terrible. And that back window is flimsy. An old woman could break into it. You might want to look into that.”

  With that, he turns and strides off down the hall.

  “You’re welcome!” I call out after him.

  I could swear he raises his hand and wiggles his fingers just slightly, but I’m probably imagining things. The man doesn’t have manners. I close the door and turn back to Taylor, who is pretty much standing on top of me, peering over my shoulder where Ace just disappeared to.

  “That man is so damn fine. Have you taken a look at his ass?”

  I turn around and shoot her a look.

  “What?” she says innocently, batting her eyelashes. “I’m just saying.”

  “I have not looked at his ass. I’m too busy studying his rude, jerky face.”

  I lied. I have totally looked at his ass.

  More than once.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” she laughs. “Now come and tell me more about Jacob. I want to know all the juicy details.”

  We sit on the sofa, and I spend the next few hours telling her about Jacob.

  And all the juicy details.

  * * *

  I stare at the item of clothing, holding it in my hand for a long, long moment. So long I could swear my fingers go numb. I just look down at it. It’s so familiar. I should know because he used to wear it every Sunday when we’d watch football together. It was his favorite. We brought it when we went on a vacation to Thailand. The old, gray T-shirt is more than familiar to me.

  What I don’t understand is why it’s sitting on my kitchen table.

  It’s early morning, just past eight, and I woke to find the shirt just draped over the table, like it had been placed there. Raymond’s items have been boxed up since about six months after he passed, sitting in my spare room until I can bring myself to either put them in storage or finally part with them. I taped those boxes closed. I’m sure I did.

  Shaking my head, I walk down the hall, the shirt still gripped tightly in my fingers, and I push open the door to my spare room. I walk over to the box labeled CLOTHING and I study it. Sealed shut. It doesn’t even look like it has been tampered with. Maybe I didn’t pack this shirt? I rack my brain trying to remember if I put it in, but I don’t remember. It was an emotional day packing away all his belongings, I don’t recall any particular moments like that.

  Maybe I didn’t pack it, but that doesn’t explain how it got onto the kitchen table.

  Maybe I was sleepwalking? I’ve been known to do that in my time, but never to the extreme of picking up items of clothing and putting them on a table. Though it was what was meant to be our wedding anniversary two days ago, and my emotions were a little all over the place, so maybe subconsciously I did somehow manage to get to the shirt and put it on the table.

  It’s the only explanation I can conjure up right now.

  Nothing else has been touched.

  I’m overthinking this.

  I clutch the shirt and take it into my room, placing it on my desk folded neatly, then I go out and get ready for my shift. The shirt lingers in the back of my mind, consuming my thoughts so much I don’t hear the knocking until it becomes a little louder and I snap out of my trance. Rushing over to the door, I swing it open to find Jacob standing there, two coffees in his hand.

  “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” He smiles. “Good morning.”

  I glance down at the coffee, then at him, and say in a soft tone, “Morning. Come in.”

  He studies me, his eyes narrowing. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  He’s taken to calling me sweetheart in the last few days, and I will admit, it is kind of nice. It’s been a long time since anyone has spoken to me with such affection. Raymond was an affectionate man, one of the very few I’ve met who wasn’t afraid to show a woman how he felt. It was a quality I loved about him. Something that made living with him a peaceful, fun, happy experience.

  “Ah, yeah, I guess.”

  I’m still distracted. Why would I find a shirt when sleeping and put it on the table? I just don’t understand where I would’ve even found it. I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around it, even though I’m sure the explanation is a simple one.

  “You don’t look okay,” Jacob says, and I focus on him again. “Tell me what’s happened?”

  Should I tell him? Will he think I’m crazy? Gosh. What if he does? No. He wouldn’t. He’s a nice guy, one of the best. He’ll probably be able to set me straight, help me see it a little more clearly.

  “It’s just, well this might sound a little nuts…”

  He hands me my coffee and I take it gratefully, moving out of the way as he steps inside. “I don’t think it’ll sound nuts. Talk to me.”

  I close the door and exhale. “I found one of my husband’s shirts on the kitchen table this morning, but the thing is, I’m sure I packed it away in a box. I mean, I couldn’t be completely certain about that, but I thought I did. Even so, somehow it got onto the table, and I can’t figure out how.”

  Jacob frowns, deep in thought. “Perhaps you put it there without remembering?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t see why I would. I went to bed last night, and it wasn’t there. And when I woke this morning, it was.”

  He ponders this. “You don’t sleepwalk, do you?
”

  I nod, sheepishly. “Well, yeah, I do have a habit of doing that but I don’t know where I would have found that shirt, or why I would have put it on the table. It’s not as if it was just lying around somewhere. I couldn’t even tell you where it was, it’s been packed away for so long.”

  He shrugs, and sips his coffee before answering. “I’ve read numerous times how people do the oddest things when sleepwalking, things that don’t make any sense at all when they’re awake. Perhaps you were just thinking of him, and your mind subconsciously led you to the shirt?”

  That does make some sense, I guess.

  But, it still doesn’t feel quite right. I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. Maybe I’m being paranoid and need to just let it go. Jacob is right—people do strange things when sleepwalking all the time. I’ve read about it before, too.

  “You’re probably right.”

  He steps forward, catching me around the waist and bringing me closer, grazing his lips over mine. “Try not to panic. I’m sure it’s nothing at all. Don’t get yourself flustered.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it just seems odd…”

  “You’re probably overreacting,” he says carefully. “Honestly, it was likely something simple.”

  Am I overreacting? My brain twists even more. Maybe I am, it would make sense. I used to have strange dreams after Raymond died, and I’d find myself in odd places some mornings, like sleeping on the floor or sitting on the couch. It would make sense that I could do the same in this situation, too. After all, our anniversary was close, and I was thinking of him more than usual, especially considering I’ve kind of started dating again. Maybe that has stirred up a mix of feelings and brought it all to the surface.

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “No, you’re right. I’m sure it’s nothing. Thanks for bringing the coffee over. I really needed one.”

  “Oh I know,” he chuckles. “I’m basically a mind reader.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes, nudging him with my shoulder. “What are your plans for today?”

  He grins. “I’m taking you out for lunch, considering you told me you’re working tonight, so go and get changed.”

  My heart warms a little. Getting out is just what I need to clear my head. “Sounds like a good plan. I won’t be long.”

  I hurry off down the hall, and get changed for the day into some casual shorts and a light blue tee, then I pull my hair up into a ponytail after running a brush through it. I spray myself lightly with some body spray and then head back out. Jacob is sitting at my kitchen counter, studying his phone. He looks up when I come up, and his eyes lighten.

  “You look nice.”

  I shift and flush. “Thanks. So, where are we going?”

  He winks at me. “That’s a surprise. Come on, let’s get going or we’ll be late.”

  Late.

  Exciting.

  I wonder where he’s taking me.

  SEVEN

  I blink.

  Then blink again, swallowing a few times before shaking my head to control my emotions.

  What are the chances Jacob would bring me to the same place my husband not only asked me to marry him, but also the place where we actually held our wedding reception. I haven’t been back here since he died. We used to come here often. It was our place, and I loved it. I haven’t been able to come back. It was just too painful, and I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to handle it without him.

  “Is everything okay?” Jacob asks as I stare at the massive restaurant that overlooks thick woodland.

  It’s a gorgeous place.

  And it serves some of the best food I’ve ever had.

  I clear my throat, “Yes, of course. Sorry, it’s just…”

  I hesitate. Is it wrong to tell him that I used to come here with my husband? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, not in any way, but he does deserve to know the truth. I try not to talk a lot about Raymond on our dates, even though Jacob has asked a few times. I don’t want to make it uncomfortable for him. Maybe I can suggest we can go somewhere else? That would make me feel a whole lot better. It’s just not a place that I feel like I can share with someone else. It’s just … it’s Raymond’s and my place.

  It always will be.

  Staring at the building, I can practically hear his happy laugh when I said yes after he got down on one knee. I can hear the slow drawl of his voice when he gave a toast at our reception, making everyone laugh and cry when he spoke about me. I can see the way his eyes held mine as we shared our first dance right there on the wooden deck that so many people are currently sitting on, enjoying their food.

  Yes.

  Our place. Our memories.

  It’s not Jacob’s fault. He couldn’t have had any idea what this place means to me, so in a soft voice I tell him, “It’s just … I got married here.”

  Jacob is silent for a minute, and I look over at his face to see him studying the restaurant. Gosh, he probably feels so uncomfortable now. I know I would if I was in this situation. The poor guy probably feels terrible, but it isn’t his fault.

  “I didn’t realize. I didn’t know,” he murmurs, looking down at me. “I’m so sorry, we can go somewhere else. But I do have a reservation and I’ve already paid for lunch…”

  Dammit.

  Dammit.

  I know how hard it is to get a reservation here at Jade’s Place, and their incredible prepaid three-course lunches are nonrefundable. It’s why they’re so popular, and they’re one of few places that can get away with charging people ahead of time. I’d feel terrible if Jacob lost his money. It has been four years since I lost Ray, I have to face it eventually.

  My heart clenches unhappily, but I force a smile.

  “Of course, no,—of course we’ll stay here,” I say quickly, even though it just doesn’t feel right.

  Jacob smiles tentatively. “Are you sure?”

  Seeing the hope on his face makes me feel more confident in my decision. “Absolutely.” I’ll just get through this the best I can.

  He reaches for my hand and takes me inside the restaurant, speaking to a waitress about our table. I’m in somewhat of a daze as I glance around the beautiful restaurant. I’ve forgotten how incredible it is in here, how utterly breathtaking. Wooden booths, sleek floors, big glass windows that overlook acres of trees and mountains. The smell of food trails out, and my stomach grumbles.

  “This way,” the waitress says leading us to a table.

  As we near, my heart clenches. It can’t be. How is it possible that not only would Jacob bring me to this restaurant, but we would sit at the exact table Raymond proposed to me at? This is just too much. We stop and my knees tremble a little as Jacob pulls a chair out for me.

  “Isn’t the view spectacular? I requested this table specifically because they said it has the best view.” I don’t let on that I’m screaming inside. This isn’t his fault. He’s gone to such an effort for me, I need to stop being such a baby and suck it up.

  So I sit down, even though everything inside of me is twisting in pain.

  “What can I get you both to drink?” the waitress asks.

  “Just a Coke for me, please,” I say to her, my voice a little shakier than I’d like.

  “Me too,” Jacob says.

  When she’s gone, he looks over to me. “Are you okay? You’ve gone a little pale.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I force out. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve been here.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes holding mine, and I can see genuine concern there. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you here. I’ve just heard such good things about it, I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  Dammit.

  I’m sure this is awkward for him. There is no need for my mood to make it worse. My memories with Raymond will always be fond, but it doesn’t mean I can’t make some new ones. Being weird with Jacob isn’t going to help. He’s done a nice thing, I need to get over it. “It was a wonderful i
dea, thank you.”

  He smiles. “I hope you like seafood. I ordered the three-course seafood lunch.”

  I nod, my chest easing just a little. “Yes, I love it. It’s my favorite.”

  He beams, again. “I’m a fan myself.”

  We talk casually for the next two hours while they bring out the three-course lunch: lobster tails, prawns, seafood chowder, and fresh bread rolls. It’s amazing, and tastes as incredible as it always did. I stay a little uptight the entire time, but do my best to make the conversation flow. He’s gone to so much effort. I can’t deny that I breathe a little easier when we step outside of the restaurant to leave.

  “You’re really not happy, are you?” he says to me on the car ride home.

  I’ve just shifted in the seat, trying to ease my discomfort. I ate far too much. I’m not entirely sure if that was because I was hungry, or if I was trying to hide from the awkward tension between Jacob and me, because my mood wasn’t quite right.

  “I’m okay, honestly.”

  He gives me a sideways look. “You were slightly off during lunch.”

  I swallow. “I did my best. I’m sorry if I upset you, I wasn’t trying to.”

  “A little,” he admits, shrugging. “I know it was your place with your husband, but I honestly didn’t know that, and I went to a big effort to plan everything.”

  Great.

  Now I look like an asshole, and worse, I feel like one too.

  “Maybe you can come over for dinner tomorrow night,” I suggest, hoping that’ll make up for things. “I’ll make you something. To make up for it?”

  He looks to me, sighs, and then nods. “Okay.”

  Gosh. I hope I don’t ruin this before it even has a chance to launch. I don’t want it to go badly. I really like Jacob.

  I exhale. I can do this.

  I can.

  * * *

  Dammit.

  I stare at the faucet in my bathroom that started as a slow leak and is now proceeding to get bigger and bigger by the second. I’ve tried stopping it, tried tightening the tap, but nothing is working. I’ve left four messages with the landlord, and three with Jacob, but it would seem nobody is available to help me. The water is already leaking over the sink, and I’m going to end up with a huge bill if it keeps up, not to mention the noise is driving me crazy.