"He Didn't..." "He Did."

5

I step through Linguini's elegant glass doors feeling self conscious in my little black dress and black ankle boots. I meet Jeff's eye from across the room and he stands as I approach, smiling.

"You look great," he says as we settle.

"Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself." I respond. (That is the understatement of the century, literally) (I eye him and boy! He sure does clean up good).

Over pasta, we get talking. I tell him about Mascot, and about growing up in Texas and he tells me about Harrison, Finley and Co. Advocates (ah, he's a lawyer!) and his childhood in New York. We talk freely and I feel so comfortable, like I've known him in a past life (okay, I do believe in that sort of a thing alright? Let's not get all philosophical).

"So, you definitely are not seeing anyone at the moment? I mean, how? You're a great guy." I ask him, genuinely surprised.

"I'm flattered," he takes a sip of his wine, "but I'm not."

"Why?" (Intruding much?!)

He gives a small laugh. "I guess I'm just waiting for the right person to come along, you know?"

"I...yeah." I clear my throat. (How is this guy even real?) (I mean, the way he's leaning back into his seat, a glass of wine in one hand, his arm lazily lying on the table.) (Just look at him, he looks like freaking Zeus!) "I just...i hope you don't mind me dragging you into this mess with my mother."

"Speaking of which, when am I going to meet her?"

"You're really sure about this?"

"Of course, why else would I be here?"

"I don't know, maybe because I was so forward in insisting that we meet tonight."

"Hey, I came here, because, even though you asked me to, I genuinely wanted to see you again."

"I must warn you, though," I say, hiding my rising blush behind my glass of wine, "my mother isn't one of those cookie-baking, hold-your-hand-as-we-cross-the-street kind of mom."

He laughs heartily at my description. "Don't worry, we're in this together. There's no turning back now." He raises his glass in a toast and we drink to it.

"That's settled then, I'll text you when we're meeting mom, she might need to check her 'schedule'." I confirm, as he walks me out and hails a taxi.

"I look forward to that." He leans in and gives me a hug. (Ah, he smells like heaven....). "Good night." He waves as I drive off.

***