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Sara doesn’t say a word, allowing me to talk. I look down, remembering the moment I proposed to her.
“I loved her so much that I asked her to marry me. Before this, no other woman ever managed to win over my heart like that. But Maria was someone special.”
“Sounds like it.”
“I asked her on New Year’s Eve, and she said yes immediately. Sure, it had only been six months since we dated, but I knew she was the one for me.”
My heart lurches as I remember my foolish actions. It would be my downfall.
“What happened then?”
“The day we were supposed to get married, she left me at the altar.”
It still stings remembering that. Walking in, excited to finally tie the knot and start a future and family together, only to find she was nowhere to be found.
“That’s terrible,” Sara gasps.
“It was. I waited all day. I thought maybe she was running late, but I learned from other family and friends that she wasn’t. She just changed her mind, leaving me alone at the altar and never explaining why. It’s still hard to talk about.”
“You’re not over her?”
I purse my lips. I don’t know the answer to that question. There’s a lot that I still need to sort through.
“In a way I am, but the feelings, I’m not. Since then, I’ve tried to date again, but it’s been no use. After the third failed date, I decided to work on myself and my business. That’s how I got to where I am today.”
“I see,” Sara replies. Her eyes lock onto mine, and she inches a bit closer.
“I haven’t had the best outlook on women,” I admit. “I think a lot of them are shallow and—”
“So I am?” she asks pointedly.
I shake my head. “No. You’re different.”
“And how am I different? We’ve only barely started dating, heck I don’t even know if we truly are, but you’re saying all of these things that I’m not sure about either.”
I hold her hand tightly. She doesn’t meet my grasp but instead sits there.
“You’re not, Sara. You’re different because you seem to care about me more than my money.”
“What if I just haven’t said it?” she retorts.
That is something I’ve considered, but I know that’s a load of crock, too. I shake my head.
“You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t want to be.”
“I mean, sure, but maybe one day I’ll ask you to pay for all of my stuff. Maybe I just want to get you to lower your guard down—”
“Stop. Sara! You would’ve already shown that hand a while ago,” I almost shout. “Most girls show it even when they don’t mean to.”
I remember going on a date with a woman named Nichole. She worked in a similar industry to mine, and we met at a function. I thought there was potential until I heard her mention the money she needed, immediately leveling her gaze toward me.
“I see. Guess you’re pretty aware of that.”
“I want to believe I am,” I reply, looking away. “But there’s always a chance that I’ll slip up.”
“I know. So, I guess my next question is: If you do trust me, why did it take you this long to tell me this?”
I look at her, and for a brief second, I process this. There’s a lot that I have the answers to. Maybe this is one where I don’t, at least not yet. Maybe it’s because of my own hesitation. Or maybeit’s because when I tell her, it’s acknowledging those personal feelings.
