“No Max tonight?” I asked.
“No, I usually only hire a car if there’s a chance I’m going to be drinking at all.”
“Smart.”
He led me to a silver Lexus and opened the passenger door for me. I bit my thumbnail as I watched him walk toward the driver’s side. When he sat down next to me, I gazed at his profile, his five o’clock shadow peeking through. It suited him. I wanted to run my fingers over the stubble. I hugged my backpack to my chest and turned to look out the window.
Get over it, Vivian. Just focus on finding him his life partner and secure an apartment for Paris.
“We should prep you for your date soon,” I said.
He frowned, shifted into drive, and clasped his hands around the steering wheel. “Sure.”
* * *
Justin
Vivian was sitting at a two-seater table on the patio, searching through her phone. It was chilly outside, but inside the enclosure was warm and heated. I slipped off my jacket and slung it over my arm. Vivian’s hair was swept up, wisps of curls trailing down the side of her face. Her neck was delicate, and I longed to trace my fingers across her skin. I instinctively knew how soft it would be. I pushed the thought away and hung my jacket on the chair across from hers.
“Hi.” I sat down.
She lifted her eyes to mine and smiled. It was a different smile than she usually gave me. There was a tenderness about it that left me speechless. The world could end now, and I wouldn’t see anything but her in this very moment.
“I already ordered your brandy. Is that alright?”
“Perfect.” My voice was lower than usual. I cleared my throat, looking down at the menu. “Are you hungry?”
“Not for a big meal, maybe an appetizer.”
“The tarte flambée is pretty good here if you’d like to split it, and maybe some calamari or oysters?”
“The flambée and calamari would be nice.”
The waiter brought our drinks, and I ordered. “Is there anything else you’d like?” I asked Vivian.
“No, that’s plenty.” She sipped her wine after the waiter left. “When you’re about to meet a client like you did with Rajesh, do you get nervous?”
“A bit,” I admitted. “It’s always the moment before the meeting, but once the ice is broken and we get to talking, I’m very relaxed and in the moment. Especially when I’m passionate about something I’d like to invest in.”
“What makes you relaxed?” she asked. “Don’t you worry that he or she might not like you or the meeting will go wrong?”
“No.” I reached for my brandy. “I see the meeting as an opportunity. If we’re a good fit, it will show. If we aren’t, then it’s best not to push things that probably wouldn’t work out in the end.”
“And you have a system for gauging that?”
I sipped my drink. “My instincts, mostly. Through conversation, I get a sense if we would be on the same page.”
“What happens when you don’t feel it would work out?”
“I politely end the meeting as quickly as possible.”
Her finger trailed the stem of her glass, and I looked away before my thoughts went south.
“That’s how you should handle any of your first dates. Like meeting a potential client, except it’s a potential life partner. If you don’t feel you’re a fit, then you politely move on. No harm done.”
“Unless they fall in wet cement or get soda dumped in their lap.”
She smiled that smile again that warmed me from the inside out. “Did anything go wrong on our pretend date?”
