text: The inside of the restaurant made her gulp, standing in the doorway. But the host had already spotted her, and there was no backing out. There were waiters in nice pressed white shirts and black pants carrying covered platters around. She expected them all to have small mustaches, but was disappointed to find they all looked like normal people. Her phone buzzed again. I’m at the table in the back. It's private. She grimaced a little, but ran a hand through her hair and took a breath. She needed to do this. Striding to the back, she looked around. He had sent her a picture of his face, she wasn’t stupid, but the restaurant was dark and it was hard to make out what people looked like. “Emily?” A man asked, approaching her. He had soft brown eyes and an easy smile. It helped that he was tall, taller than her in her heels, with tousled hair and well put together outfit. The only criticism she could have was that his face felt stretched across the bone, like it was too small compared to his skeleton. “You must be Richard,” she said, smiling up at him. He put a hand on her waist, causing her smile to flicker, but he kept it there, an ever steady presence, as he led her to a table tucked behind a half wall. She set her bag down slowly, her hands clasping around it like a safety blanket. He had already pulled a chair out for her, so she sat. “What do you want to order?” He leaned across the table, propping his chin up with one hand. She laughed in pure shock, covering her mouth with her hand. “I haven’t even looked at the menu.” “You seemed like someone who would look it up online to know exactly what to order when you got here.” She hesitated over the menu, her hand posed to pick it up. She had done exactly that. That was the type of person she was. But she picked up the menu and flipped it open, setting it on the table. “What would that say about me?” He had to sit up higher to see her over the menu. “That you’re practical.” “What do you suggest to eat?” Emily asked, trying to move past the analysis of her. “The cordon bleu is really good if you would like a chicken dish, and the filet comes with an amazing sauce. They also have nice pasta dishes if you weren’t looking for meat tonight,” he said, lowering the menu she had set up and pointing them out. He was just trying to help. He was just trying to show her the items. Another flash of that sweet smile was ice on her fraying nerves. He rubbed his cheek. One of the waiters pulled away from their route to talk to them. “Would you like the wine list? Or any appetizers to start?” “I would like one bottle of your finest red, ma’am,” Richard said. Emily felt her face flush as she quickly waved her hands. “No need for that.” “It’s my treat.” She leaned over the table whispering away from the waiter. “But I won’t be able to afford my half of the bill.” “Your half? Where did you get the impression that you had to pay?” “I always pay half my bill on dates.” So guys didn’t think they were owed something from her. “I invited you to a nice dinner, I shall pay. I am not going to put you out this money, that’s not the gentlemanly thing to do.” Emily grit her teeth. “Fine.” The waiter, sensing tension, made herself scarce. Richard relaxed back into the seat, flashing her another one of his smiles with another rub of his cheek, the other one this time. “I must thank you for coming, I know most girls don’t make a habit of going out with their customers.” “It’s not common.” “How is the job? You always seem so chipper when I come in.” “It’s all part of the job.” He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “So you’re unhappy.” “I never said that.” Emily chose her next words very carefully. “It’s not everything I want out of life, but it gets me through the now.” “I could say the same thing about my job,” he said, sitting back and rolling his eyes. “Where do you work again?” “Marketing.” “A lot of guys work in marketing around here.” He smiled. “It’s a big market.” The waiter came back with the bottle of wine, displaying it and pouring two glasses. Richard grabbed his glass, swirling it once, then took a drink from it. Emily picked hers up and just watched the dark red liquid floating inside. “Do you know what you would like to order?” The waiter asked. “The pasta primavera,” Emily said. “The filet. And thank you, so much,” Richard said, quickly turning back to Emily. “Where are you from?” “The Chicago area. Didn’t go to the city a lot, mostly stayed around it.” “And now you’re here? Far trip.” Emily offered a tight smile. “Needed to get away.” “I’m born and bred here. Whole family is still here too. Do you like a big family?” “Never had one, the family was so spread out. I guess it’d probably be fine.” Richard spread his arms wide. “You never need to meet them, a whole bunch of assholes, the lot.” Emily didn’t have a response to that. Richard was plowing ahead before she had the chance to formulate one. “I guess what I really want to get to is the root of who Emily is. What does she like?” “Well I like cats over dogs, violets are my favorite type of flower, and I prefer tea over coffee.” “Violets are your favorite flower?” Richard asked, tilting his head to the side. “You looked more like a daisies girl.” “I used to like daisies, can’t anymore.” Richard tented his fingers on the table, staring her down. “Those aren’t the roots of you though.” “I guess I don’t feel comfortable sharing my roots on the first date. They aren’t things you need to know.” “Have you ever shared it with anyone though?” His soft eyes sparkled again, but she decided it was in a way that made a chill run through her body. “Friends, I guess.” “Never a romantic partner?” “None that have mattered.” “I think you are scared to open up. To reach out and find love again. How badly did he hurt you?” “What are you talking about?” “I think you have a complicated relationship with your mother, ever since your father died. I think you moved to get away from those feelings instead of facing it. I think you got a degree you hate so kept your college coffee shop job instead of looking for any real work. I think you dated a good man, who you pushed to the side because you weren’t ready for a real relationship.” Emily stared at Richard, where he stood, half folded over the table, panting. She saw red. “What the hell? Did Jared put you up to this? I told that little weasel to get out of my life. I knew it was too good to be true when you asked me out. My friends wanted me to get out there again, and what, you trick me because that jackass put you up to it?” She stood, grabbing her purse. “I’m not going through another second of this abuse. I’m done. Have a goodnight.” The entire way home was a blur. She got in the car and apparently started it because next thing she knew she was sitting in her driveway. She put it in park, tears rolling down her cheeks, staining her face. Three times now. Three dates that had gone poorly. She wondered if the other two had been set up by Jared too, they were both attractive men in marketing, she was just shocked that he had any friends willing to do it, or any friends at all. First the texts he had sent, now this? Maybe it was time to exit the dating scene entirely. She entered her home and immediately fell asleep. But after a week of crying and throwing little pity parties, she put on a cute dress and dolled herself up, for no one but herself. There was a bookstore that just opened up on the corner that she wanted to go look at. When she got there, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around, there was a man in a sweater and jeans, holding out violets for her. “Can I ask you for a date?” He was a pretty man. Slick black hair and hazel eyes. The only problem she could see on him was his face drooped a little bit, like there was extra skin over the bones.