He was, quite simply, a man I would love to get naked and rub bits with.
I gave a little wave. “Hi, I’m Felicia. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Kincaid.”
Then I realized I wasn’t supposed to know what he looked like.
He didn’t seem to notice though. “Call me Michael.” He put his hand out and gave me a smile. “Thanks for coming by. I hope this isn’t a waste of your time.”
I didn’t care if he didn’t have a single article of clothing of any value. I was getting a glimpse into his flat and into him. Which made me utterly hopeless. But I had a crush. We’re allowed to have crushes at twenty-eight years old, aren’t we?
“My pleasure,” I said, and I meant that quite literally. “Based on the photo you sent, I’m optimistic we can find some gems in your wife’s wardrobe.”
“I know the basics of fashion,” he said. “I can pair a tie with a suit, but when I’m not at work or at some sort of fundraiser, I’m well… ” He gestured to his clothes. “Casual.”
“Look at me,” I said. “I’m wearing a puffer. I don’t exactly look like I know my way around a runway, but I can assure you, I have the knowledge necessary to sell anything you’d like in my online store.” When I had first arrived in New York, I’d had a dream of continuing my European career as a runway model because of how much I’d enjoyed fashion. I’d achieved some success, but I’d also spent two miserable years going to hundreds of casting calls and having agents dismiss me with barely a glance.
I’d learned not to take it personally, but it’s never pleasant to be told your lips are repulsive and that your skin is sallow.
Given I had no talent for actual design, I’d taken my love of fashion and turned it into a business. I bought and then resold, after garments were repaired and styled.
Michael gave me a smile. “I think you look practical since it’s snowing.”
Practical. Lovely. No wonder my vagina was the road less traveled. There was a roadblock in front of it marked “practical.” Men don’t get hot for practical.
I should have worn the heels, consequences be damned.
Making a non-committal sound I followed him into the lift. I didn’t like at all that we’d already chatted quite extensively and he didn’t know it. To him, I was a total stranger. Not even the person on the other end of
a dating app.
He also hadn’t taken one look at me and decided he wanted to change that, so that was disappointing. He seemed friendly enough, but not on the verge of ravishing me.
“I should have done this years ago,” he said. “The clothes seemed too nice to just toss and I kept putting it off. I didn’t mean for a decade to go by.”
“I’m sorry about your wife,” I said, because it seemed the polite response.
“Thanks. It’s been a long time. We were only married for two years. I would say at this point the relationship is a very fond memory and that mostly I’m sorry she didn’t get a full life.”
I’d got the impression in his messages that he wasn’t a man holding on to his grief with both hands, but there had to be a reason he’d not had a serious relationship in the ten years since her passing.
“So you’re online dating, then?” I asked.
Out with it. Just like that. Idiot.
But I couldn’t resist.
His profile had disappeared weeks ago (I know, I know, why was I monitoring it?) and I was starting to think that he had found the woman of his dreams. If he had, I needed to know so I could stop fantasizing about him. Nothing else seemed to be working.
When the lift stopped at the third floor, the doors opened. He gestured for me to go first. “No. I decided it wasn’t my thing. No one I talked to seemed like they were really interested in a relationship. Just lots of posturing and hookups.” There was a touchpad to his front door and he punched in the code. “That’s not what I’m looking for, so I deleted the app.”
I stepped into his apartment. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with you and Savannah.”
What can I say? I enjoy self-punishing. My mum would always tell me not to ask a question if I wasn’t prepared to accept the answer. I still hadn’t learned my lesson.
“Can I take your coat?” he asked, holding his hand out.
“Sure, thanks.” I peeled it off, juggling my large bag. I had brought my tablet to do some quick price researching and to take photos.
He wasn’t going to answer me about Savannah. Served me right.