Her shoulders slump in disappointment. “Okay, it’s a reach. I know.”
When I chuckle, lifting my coffee cup to my lips, I watch for a hint of a smile on her face. As she glances back up at me, I catch a tiny flinch in the corner of her mouth.
“What should I do first?” I ask, teasing her. “Rob a bank?
Mug a nun? Sell drugs on the corner? It’s a valiant concept, but I don’t think any of those things are going to hit your boyfriend where it hurts.”
“Ex,” she corrects me. “And you’re right. None of those things would.”
When she takes another bite of her breakfast, I get the lingering suspicion that she has some idea of what would hit her boyfriend where it hurts.
I don’t say a word as she chews and swallows, chasing it down with her coffee. “I’m waiting,” I say with a smirk.
“For?” she teases back.
“What would work. You have an idea, don’t you?”
My eyes get caught on the delicate movement of her fingers again, especially as she sweeps her pink waves out of her face and places her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on the table.
“Oh, that’s where I come in.”
I fight a smile again, watching the way her full lips pout theatrically.
“Go on,” I reply, sitting back and crossing my arms, doing my best to keep my expression stern and serious.
“Well…what would upset your family’s squeaky-clean reputation more than me?”
A scoff bursts through my lips.
“What on earth do you plan on doing to my family?”
“Dating you, of course.”
I’m reaching for my coffee cup, my arm frozen in midair.
Dating?
A lot of thoughts start to swirl through my mind at this moment. The first one is me questioning if Sage is using this elaborate plan as a strategy to get me into bed—again.
Although I guess there wasn’t really a bed involved at all the first time. But that’s where things feel muddled and wrong, so I breeze past that thought and directly into the next.
Does she really think so low of herself that she believes dating her would ruin my family’s image?
Do I?
For the past month, I’ve thought about Sage and never once did I make an attempt to contact her. I know where she lives. I could have easily visited that Laundromat to seek her out, to take her on a date, to let myself indulge in staring at all the things about her that fascinate me. Or endeavored for a repeat of what happened in her apartment last month.
But I haven’t.
Because even I know that Sage is a round peg and I’m a square hole.
Or is it the other way around?
“Relax, I’m not talking about real dating,” she says when she notices the expression of contemplation on my face. She’s probably thinking I’m panicking on the inside, which I guess I am. But not for the reasons she thinks.
“So, what are you talking about?”
“Being seen together,” she replies, sipping her coffee.
I glance around the diner. “We are being seen together.”
She lets out an adorable huff. “I mean somewhere your family and the public will actually see us. Somewhere that makes a real statement. Don’t y’all have, like, balls and galas and shit?”
I snicker. “We sometimes have galas and shit. We have a charity dinner in three weeks.”
“Perfect!” she chirps. “Just imagine the look on your father’s face when you show up with me on your arm.”
“What makes you think dating you will ruin my reputation?” I ask with scrutiny.
“Well, first of all, I’m a full-blown atheist. I couldn’t give two shits about church or God or any of that. Second of all, look at me.”
My brow furrows. “And?”
She gestures to her tattoos and the piercings on her face.
“Are you going to pretend you’ve ever dated anyone who looked like me?”
When I don’t answer, she makes a raised-brow expression.
“See, I’m perfect for that gala in three weeks.”
Putting my hands up to stop her, I feel my anxiety rising the more excited she gets about this plan. “Now, just wait a minute. I’m not on board with this idea…yet.”
“Of course,” she replies, her posture slouching. “I mean, think about it. It would drive both of them insane to see us together.”
“You’re right about that,” I say, focusing my eyes on all the little things about her that I like. Her nervous little habits and all the delicate lines of her tattoos. “But do you think it’s enough? One charity dinner?”
Her tongue peeks out, running over the ring in her lip.
“Well, I have some other ideas too, but we can start small.”
The waitress approaches the table to check on us, placing the check face down. I snatch it up before Sage can even move.
As I feel the breakfast coming to an end, my mood dampens. It dawns on me now just how long I was looking forward to this chance encounter happening, living just in the hopes she’d be here. I had no idea all of this would come about. There was no way for me to know she’d have a ridiculous plan for me to almost immediately shoot down.
Because I know already I’m not going through with this.
Maybe if she had asked me last week, when my anger was still fresh, I’d have jumped at the opportunity. But now, I realize
that once I open this can of revenge, I won’t be able to close it back up again. I’ll never be able to get back the man I was before I embarked on something so calculating. Lying to my family. Becoming someone I’m not.
And maybe worst of all—kissing any chance of reaching my father’s level of success goodbye. If that’s even what I want anymore. I’m a mess, and the last thing I need to do now is jump into a fake relationship with a girl I barely know—no matter how much I want to.
Eleven
Adam
I watch Sage walk down the empty city street until she turns a corner and disappears. In my mind, I know…that’s it.
She and I have no more business together. I need to focus less on her and more on what I’m going to do with my life now, and it sure as hell isn’t pretending I’m dating someone just to make my father mad. This isn’t high school. I’m not a child.
As I turn in the opposite direction and start my slow stroll back to my apartment, I think about that night with her again.
That wasn’t me. The way I behaved with her was evil.
Wanton. Weak. Years of Bible studies and sermons have taught me that temptation is like poison to the virtue of a good man.
But at the same time…I finally got to feel what it’s like to truly let go. To finally do what I always wanted to do.
And it felt good.
My father would tell me that was the work of the devil.
The temptation to give in to such carnal and sadistic urges can only bring a man to ruin.
Of course, that is the same man who I caught indulging in his own carnal urges and with no remorse. Without apology or contemplation. As if it meant nothing to him. As if…
everything he taught me my entire life…was a lie.
I’m not a fool. I’m thirty-seven fucking years old, and I have enough self-reflection to know that indulging in vices from time to time does not make me a good man condemned.