Convenience

Part 92

Silence descended once again. It was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Beatrice decided to speak. "Does it matter?" She shrugged.

It was all rather sad. How many wives could claim never to have been on a date with their husbands, either before or after they got married?

"Yeah. It matters." He lifted his wine glass to his lips, and sipped.

Her eyes tracked his lips as he sipped. She had yet to try the wine in her glass. She wanted to keep her wits about. Beatrice murmured. "Why?"

"Because I made an assumption. Several assumptions." He put his wine glass down. "Five years ago, I made lots of assumptions. But I told you, I learn from my mistakes." He held her glance, just to make sure that she understood what he was saying. "I am not about to make the same mistake. Based on a wrong assumption." It was definitely a statement. David narrowed his eyes.

She gulped. But didn't allow it to show. She knew her heart was thumping.

"You left." David said, he hesitated, waiting for her reaction. She said nothing. She bit down on her annoyance. "And I got your message. You wanted out!" David took another deep breath, "After about a few months it was common knowledge that we had separated." He looked up to see if she was still listening.

Beatrice was willing to accept that their separation was noted by various people. She knew that. She maintained eye contact.

"I never kept my marriage a secret. But everyone knew I wasn't living with my wife." Might as well make sure his message was received. "You weren't there. Never lived at my home." Unlike Beatrice, David reached for his wine glass. A sip of his wine just to keep his equilibrium. That was when Beatrice realized that he was a strong man, and he was also a very sensitive man. At least they had that in common. While he sipped at his wine, she fiddled with her napkin on her lap. "People know I am officially still married, just separated and dating."

She stated with feigned nonchalance, "I guess that's just another way in which I am different to your girlfriends." Her stomach was roiling. She smoothed the napkin on her lap, trying to keep her emotion in check. She could not allow him to change her opinion about him. Becoming endearing, was not an option. Falling for a strong man with a tender heart was not good!

"What?" He sounded maudlin.

Inside she was quaking. She scowled. "I don't date married men." She came to a sudden halt, "Basically, you don't date married women." She focused on him with pointed accusation and she corrected beneath her breath, "Not even your wife!" He widened his eyes and raised his brows. She hesitated for a brief second before she bit out. "Actually, I don't date, officially or unofficially married men." David quirked a brow but before he could say anything she started listing some of the other differences. She said, "I'm not blonde." She lifted her head and looked directly at David and saw his eyes go slightly wide as he took in the fact she had noted that his dates were all blonde.

"I don't have hair down to my waist." She carried on blithely.

And he remembered the time when she did have hair down to her waist. That sleek curtain of jet-black hair was now shorn short. "You had long hair." He mumbled.

"Not now!" She glowered, before adding, "I don't have legs up to my ears."

But he knew she had long legs. "You have long legs!" He said more loudly, countered her statement. She glowered again, flustered, but couldn't correct that statement. Of course she still had long legs.

"I'm just saying!" She grumbled. "I am very different to your other women!" They shared a long speaking look before Beatrice said, "I'm not a model, or actress, or flight attendant or newsreader." She told him dryly, trying not to show her feelings.

He grimaced. Again, lost that argument. He knew, she could see from his expression that she had logged the fact that his girlfriends tended to fall into one of those four categories.

He folded his arms. "So?"

"Stunning, gorgeous, trendy..."

"Like you!" He retorted.

She gave up fiddling with the napkin on her lap, folded her arms and she looked straight at him. "True!" She retorted. "I am!" She said sharply. "But I think the most distinguishing factor, between them and me, unlike them, is that I don't sleep with married men." She glared at him. "I don't date married men. Even my own husband!" Beatrice nearly yelled at him!

"Somethingwe share! We don'tdate our spouse!" He retorted.