“Oh darn it. I’m here. Gotta go.” I say.
“Love you much,” she sing-songs before I disconnect.
I park my truck and lean my head back against the seat, taking a moment to breathe. I’m only here as a peace offering to my mother. That’s it. I do feel bad about the way I reacted to her “help”. However misguided it was, I know deep down the root of it was love. So coming on this date must mean something… right?
Loveis the last thing on my mind. Even the thought makes me shudder.
I glance at the clock. I’m already ten minutes late, time to face the inevitable. I step outside. The heat practically impales me and I struggle to catch a full breath.
All of the sudden I’m back in the Middle Eastern desert, my back against the scorching sand, staring up at the sky, sure my life is ending. But my vest caught the bullets. I’m alive, if only for a little longer. I can’t die here. I have nieces who need me. I pull myself up, determined to make it back for them.
My foot hits something and I trip, landing on my knees on cement. In Arizona.
That’s where I am. I shake my head, picking up my pace before my leather loafers melt and hurry inside. Not because I’m eager for this date.
I don’t even know who I’m looking for. My mother left that bit of information out.
“Ward! Over here!” A high-pitched voice calls just off to my left.
I turn.No.
Not Sophie.
I can handle endless dates with the innocent women my mother has set me up with in the past. They are pawns just as much as I am, the ones who understand why I’m not ready to date and don’t hound me for more than I can give them.
“Sophie.” Am I frowning for real or just in my head? “What are you doing here?”
She grabs my arm and runs her fingers up to my bicep before she gives a little squeeze. “Silly. I’m your date, of course.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
I should have put off being a better son until tomorrow.
“Oh. Well, let’s grab a table then, shall we?” I don’t give her time to respond before I leave to speak to the hostess. The faster we eat, the sooner I can leave.
Fifteen minutes later, we’ve ordered and I’ve run out of mundane conversation topics.
Mydatehas not.
Sophie picks up her glass, swirling the wine around. “So, how was the war?”
I cough and spit at the same time. “Excuse me?”
She rolls her shoulders and leans over the table. “Was it really as bad as they say, or are they just making it up for attention?”
I blink. She’s not serious, right?
She lowers her voice. “You know, now that I work for the government, I see the things people do to cover up their mistakes and how many lies politicians turn into truths in their voters’ heads.”
Well, I feel super comfortable living in the country I fought for.
I clear my throat. “I thought you were secretary to the mayor.”
“Yeah, but his cousin is, like, best friends with the governor’s PR guy.” She flips her wrist. “So, the war?”
Oh goody. She didn’t forget.
“Um, yeah, it was pretty bad.” That’s putting it mildly.
