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My heart races as I lower my gaze, trying to process this overwhelming sensation stirring within me. “But so was Cinderella’s evil stepmother. The point being that you should not pick a stepmother for your son based on looks alone.”
Then, in a moment that feels both bold and gentle, Jeremy reaches for my hand and holds it in his. “That’s exactly why we’re here—to get to know each other better and find out if we click.”
I do my best to maintain a steady smile as I look into Jeremy’s radiant expression. It’s clear that he’s genuinely into me. Yet I can’t shake the thought that Randy and I have never actually been on a proper date—a glaring sign that he doesn’t see a future with me. Plus, it’s a big reason why there’s so much about him I don’t know. Like the story behind the tattoo on Randy’s forearm, which I’ve always been curious about. Jeremy might know, and as much as I would like to ask him, I can’t, having promised to steer clear of the topic of Randy.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Jeremy requests, pulling me back from my thoughts.
I hesitate, feeling like I’ve already shared the highlights of my life. “Like what?”
“When was the last time you went on a date?”
The answer comes more easily than I expect. “Well, yesterday,” I coyly admit.
Jeremy’s laughter is warm. “You enjoy making jokes, huh? It’s cute.”
I find myself looking down, focusing on the wooden planks of the pier, watching the dark water glint through the narrow gaps. The realization that he took my statement as a joke—and that I didn’t even recognize it as such until he laughed—hits me. I’ve been dodging the real answer, but suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the urge to be honest. He deserves to know the truth. After all, I’m becoming increasingly entangled in this complicated situation with his cousin, who seems to have a phobia of commitment.
“I haven’t been on a proper date in ages,” I finally confess, lifting my head, prepared to divulge the reasons behind my statement. But as the words are about to tumble out, my gaze lands on a figure in the distance. The way he moves, the posture, his hands buried in the pockets of his peacoat—a coat I’ve become all too familiar with—it’s unmistakably Randy. This is the first time I’ve ever bumped into him outside in the wild.
“Gina?” Jeremy’s voice, tinged with worry, breaks through my shock.
I’m frozen in place, my heart sinking to my feet, as Jeremy strides a few steps ahead, unaware of the person who has seized my attention. My gaze remains locked on Randy—the man who is essentially my only romantic partner.
And he’s not alone. He is accompanied by a woman whose features are too distant to fully appreciate, yet it’s clear that she’s striking. They seem comfortable with each other, unmistakably on a date, and his date isn’t me. The realization stings, prompting tears to gather in my eyes, an emotional response I desperately wish to suppress. Why should this sight cause me such pain?
Feeling a sharp twist in my stomach, I manage to say, “Sorry. I’m not feeling well.” That’s the understatement of the year. My stomach churns unpleasantly, and I’m acutely aware that continuing in this direction means an unavoidable encounter with the couple—an encounter for which I am utterly unprepared, emotionally or otherwise.
“Okay, well, I’ll drive you home,” Jeremy offers.
I quickly raise my hand, signaling him to stop. “No.” I take steps backward, creating more space between Jeremy and myself, though it still doesn’t feel like enough.
“Sure, I’ll drive you,” he persists.
I shake my head frantically, turning away from him and increasing my pace to almost a run. Trying to keep my voice low enough to evade Randy’s ears, I call out, “Don’t follow me. Just… I need to go.”
“Gina!” he calls after me, but I wish he wouldn’t say my name.
I’m not turning back. My legs seem to move of their own accord, propelling me forward as I start to run. I wipe away tears that insist on revealing my emotions. I don’t want to feel this hurt, but I do. At this moment, fleeing feels like my only option, even if it makes me feel like a coward.
Drenched in sweat, I dash up the dock, passing by storefronts and restaurants. To escape the gaze of curious onlookers, I veer into the nearest tree-lined residential street, pushing my body harder than I have in a long time. I feel utterly lost until I call Naomi, confessing that I ran away from my date.
“Can you pick me up?” I ask desperately.
“I’ll be right there,” she said without hesitation. “Where are you?”
I send her my location and wait, feeling utterly embarrassed. Reflecting on what just happened, I regret not facing Randy and his date directly. I can’t believe I mishandled the situation so badly.
As I pace back and forth on the sidewalk in front of a perfectly manicured lawn, I replay a different version of the encounter in my mind.
“Your date looks lovely, Randy,” I would start, paying homage to Barbara Streisand in ‘The Way We Were.’ I imagine his puzzled expression as he tries to decipher my angle. Eventually, he’d manage a polite, “Thank you.”
Then, with a bit of mystery, I would drop a hint, saying, “This little meeting of ours is bound to change things, don’t you think?”
His date and Jeremy would be clueless, but Randy would understand the underlying message—that things between us have to change.
* * *
I’m still shivering, something I didn’t notice until Naomi arrives in her silk pajamas. She had been watching a movie on Netflix with her fiancé, Derek, when I called. Without a second thought, she slipped into her tennis shoes, donned a coat, and came to my rescue. Now, in the warmth of Naomi’s new car—its heater warding off the cold, its ride smooth, quiet, and comfortable—I realize my shivering is less about being chilly and more about the adrenaline settling in my body.
