His hand drops. He takes a short step back. “I’d never do that. Not to anyone. And definitely not to you.”
I swallow, warning myself not to believe too easily. Because I do believe him, it’s not even a question in my mind. As soon as he says it, something deep within flutters, like my core, telling me we have to trust him.
We’re going to have a family together. Of course, he’d never lie to me.
But this is all in my head. He seems interested against all the odds, but to take it to that level… no, I can’t. It’s presuming too much. It would lead to too much messiness.
“You really want to go on a date?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
My mind flits with a movie-like reel, showing Felix kneeling before me, a real smile on his face as he opens a ring box. Next, he’s on top of me, my hands buried in his rock-hard arms, as he shifts back and forth and drives me closer and closer to the edge.
We’re on holiday, hand in hand, sun blazing down.
He’s between my legs, hands gripping my thighs, growling as he licks me up and down ferociously.
On and on, like the vignettes are trying to batter down the walls of my reason, of my caution, until I can hardly take it.
“I can’t go tonight,” I blurt.
It’s a lie. But I need time to think.
“Tomorrow, then,” he practically demands. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
He glares at me, back to his lips being flat, his eyes locking me in place. He’s waiting for my response, though he didn’t phrase it as a question.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
“Until next time, then, mystery girl.”
I laugh as he turns away. “You can’t keep calling me that now that we’ve met.”
He chuckles over his shoulder, the sound lighting me up. I’ve made Felix Franklin laugh.
“We’ll see about that.”
“I’ll tell you how I got the number on the date,” I say.
He laughs again, and suddenly I wish I’d told him I’d go tonight. Suddenly, the idea of waiting until tomorrow seems so pointless.
But I panicked, and now he’s climbing into his car, a black sedan with tinted windows, cleaner and shinier than any car on the street.
I wave as he drives away, feeling like a dork but not sure what else to do.
Wrapping my arms across my middle, I hug myself as I think about what just happened.
After a minute, I walk back into the apartment building, heading upstairs. Rachel is waiting for me in the living room, unable to contain her excitement. She’s giddy with it.
“Tell me everything.”
Dropping down next to her, I explain what happened.
“He touched you,” Rachel says.
I shrug. “He touched my face. My hand. My shoulder.”
The more I speak, the more I realize how unusual that is. Strangers aren’t constantly touching each other all the time.
“That means he wants you. And he called you beautiful.”
I shrug, staring at the TV, an advertisement playing on mute.
“What’s the problem?” Rachel asks.
“I can’t believe any of it,” I whisper. “Not until I know it’s true.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“It could be a trick.”
“Oh, Fiona. He likes you. This is good news.”
“I know. I don’t even know how to react. I guess that’s the problem. And what the heck am I going to wear tomorrow? I don’t have date clothes.”
“Let’s look online. We can have something express delivered. I’ll put my work address so we don’t miss the delivery.”
“Express delivered?” I mutter, thinking about our bank balances.
She reaches over, giving my arm a squeeze. “My treat, okay? Come on, don’t be grumpy. This is going to be great.”
Rachel’s enthusiasm breaks through my wall. Swept up in her excitement, I throw myself into choosing a dress.
But I can’t ignore the niggling voice at the back of my mind, telling me that this is going to end terribly.
Everything’s going to go wrong. It’s going to explode in my face.
If it isn’t a trick, though, that means all I have to do is….
Is go on a date with Felix Franklin, the man of my dreams.
And what if he wants to take things further, beyond a little touching, beyond calling me beautiful?
What if I slip up and tell him I can’t stop dreaming of having his babies?
Things were so much less complicated when we were just texting.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Felix
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. I’ve been trying to sleep all night, but my mind is too restless, my thoughts returning inexorably to Fiona.
She looked so shy at certain points, as though she’s been waiting for somebody to show her how gorgeous she is, how interesting, how sassy and captivating.
My thoughts were flooded with all the journeys we will take together, marriage and children, and laughter and love.
And then I start thinking about her body and how we’re going to make those children.
As I think about stripping off her hoodie and her sweatpants, my balls expand, admiring her in her underwear. I bet she looks even tastier like that, my dream mystery girl, with her wide hips and those grab-me-now legs of hers.