“Yeah, my son Connor is five. He’s my world. I’m not sure if I had that in my profile. I should also tell you that I work at Dating the Rich. My profile was supposed to be private; I had it public while I was fixing an error in the coding. I’m sorry if I misled you. I understand if you feel that way.”
“You look way too young to be a mom and a widow. I’m truly sorry for your loss. But I can tell you’re a strong woman and probably a fantastic mother,” he said as he totally ignored the rest of the information I had just told him.
“Did you hear what I said about working at the website?” I asked as I winced and waited for his reaction. “It’s probably against the rules to even be talking to you. Well, I don’t know if there is a rule about it or not. But I’m sorry if there is, and I understand if you are totally not into me.”
“Yep, I heard you, and I’m glad I caught you online, then,” he said.
“You don’t care that I work there?”
“Should I? Is it against the rules for me to date you? Wait, don’t tell me because if I don’t know, then I can’t break the rules,” he laughed.
“You just sent me the instant message, and I was sitting with my friend and responded. I don’t know if it’s technically against the rules. I just wanted to be honest.”
“If we are being honest, then I should tell you something about me, too,” he said as he looked seriously at me.
I took in a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever horrible piece of information he was about to give me. This was it: he was going to lay it all out on the table and tell me why a rich, handsome guy like himself was actually single.
“I’m divorced.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad. There were a lot of guys in their mid-thirties who were divorced. If that was all that was wrong with this guy, then I really did want to keep him around.
“Okay.”
“I lost my son to cancer six years ago, and my wife and I divorced five years ago. She’s remarrying soon to a guy named Carlos. I’m happy for her. He seems like a decent enough man. I mean, he’s kind of a recluse and opposite of me, but I’m happy she’s going to be happy.”
“Your son died?” I said as tears started to roll down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”
I didn’t want to cry because he wasn’t crying as he told me, but I just couldn’t stop myself. My heart hurt at the idea of a sweet little boy losing his battle with cancer.
“It’s okay. I’m better now. It wasn’t anything we could control,” Brandon said as he handed me a napkin.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Connor is my life; I can’t imagine if anything would ever happen to him.”
Brandon smiled and held my hand and comforted me as I cleaned up my tears. What a thoughtful man. There I was crying over the loss of his son, yet he was comforting me.
“I think this date has gotten too serious,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. Do you have a little more time free?”
“I’m supposed to meet a friend for lunch, but I’ve got a few hours.”
“Then come with me,” he said as he held his hand out for me and lead me to his car. “There’s a place that I’d like to show you. You might need that bikini you have in your car, though.”
We stopped at my car, and I grabbed my gym bag out of the back. The only reason I had a bikini in there was because Mattie and I had planned to go to the gym that afternoon and I didn’t like going into the sauna without clothes. She always teased me about being a prude, but I just wasn’t going to sit in a room full of steam without anything on.
“I don’t normally carry a bag with a bikini in it,” I defended myself as we drove off.
“It’s an unusual thing to carry in your car, but you strike me as an unusual woman.”
“I’m actually pretty boring,” I said.
“I doubt that. You said you like going to art shows? Have you gone to any recently?”
“Yes, I just went to one. The artist was amazing. Luckily, I volunteer at a few galleries, so I get invited to events. Normally, they don’t invite people who can’t buy their artwork,” I laughed. “There was this one beautiful painting that sold for a million dollars. I know that seems like a lot, but I think people who love a piece of art are willing to pay because of the way the art makes them feel.”
He smiled and didn’t say anything for a long time as we drove toward the coast. It was unusual how calm I felt around him now. Something about us both sharing our history of loss had really connected me to him, and I didn’t feel nearly as jittery as I had when our date had first started.
“I’m not a huge art fan, but I think you’re right about how much art costs,” he said. “If someone likes it enough to spend that kind of money on it, then more power to them. Artists deserve to make a living, and their artwork is about emotions, not the actual paint they used to make the work.”
“Very true.”