Page 49 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“Your dad had a great point, and you and I have more in common than you think. I can’t change people’s lives the way you do, but I support several charities, and one cause that’s close to my heart is my foundation, Fast Friendships, which helps improve the lives of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.”

“Your foundation?” I guess I should have taken a deeper dive when I googled him.

“Yeah. My high school coach’s son, Ronnie, is intellectually disabled. He used to hang out with all the players, and seeing how he was treated by some people when we went places is what gave me the idea. I set up the foundation right after I started playing pro ball and pulled together a great team to run it. I made it our mission to help spread awareness to stop the social stigmas associated with people with IDD. We offer programs to help with employment and mentorship and have support groups for their families.”

“That’s amazing. I had no idea you were involved with that. Social stigmas are hard to overcome. Especially for kids. I saw it with Amber when she was first diagnosed with epilepsy. People are scared of what they don’t understand. You’re doing a good thing.”

“Like I said, there’s more to me than just an orgasm donor. But we’re not here to talk about me. I just wanted you to know that we do have that in common.”

We seem to have a lot more in common than I first anticipated.

“Now that you’re in the thick of running your business, how do you like being your own boss?”

Switching gears, I sit back and sigh. “It’s a double-edged sword. It’s exciting and scary, knowing my staff relies on me for a paycheck, and like I said, keeping up with the business side eats up a lot of my time, which takes away from my research. But I love being able to go after contracts for devices I want to make, even though it’s harder to secure funding for them.”

“What makes it harder?”

I sip my champagne. “There’s more of a demand for products that help a larger number of people, like the wireless heart-failure monitor and the pocket ultrasound that I helped develop, which is why the bigger companies go after them.”

Clay smiles and shakes his head. “That beautiful brain of yours blows me away. I’m out there tossing a ball around and fans are screaming my name, and you’re developing life-saving technologies but the general public has no idea who’s behind them. That’s not right.”

“It wasn’t just me. It was a whole team of people, and we weren’t the first to develop either of those technologies. But ours are the most widely used on the market today.”

“That’s incredible. I assume you’ve been successful securing funding for the projects you want to work on through your own business, or you wouldn’t have a company.”

“So far,” I say proudly.

“I’d love to hear about your work.”

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Pepper, I wouldn’t ask if I thought it would bore me.”

Wow. I like that. “Okay. We’re working on two contracts that are funded by venture capitalists. A Smart Glove to help people with neurological conditions regain hand function and a wearable assistive device for people who are sight impaired, so they don’t have to use a cane. And we’ve got a contract with NIH to develop a vagus nerve stimulator for seizure prevention in people with drug-resistant epilepsy.”

“Those sound incredible. Is that the type of epilepsy Amber has?”

“No. Her seizures are controlled with medication, but seeing how epilepsy has affected her over the years makes me want to help others who aren’t so lucky.”

He asks a dozen more questions. His genuine interest and his knowledge of how bodies work spur me on to talk in more detail about my current projects, which leads to a conversation about my failures and my successes, and some of the projects I hope to work on in the future. It’s so refreshing to talk to a man who’s not only interested but understands the science behind what I do. Most of the guys I’ve gone out with ask generic questions about my work, and I can see their interest waning within the first three minutes of answering. Clay and I talk for nearly an hour, and when we leave, I feel closer to him than I have to anyone in a long time. Even my own family doesn’t show as much interest in my work as Clay.

We take our waiter’s suggestion and go for a walk along the Seine. It’s breezy by the water, and when Clay pulls me close, I snuggle into his side. His scent mixes with the scent of the river, and I realize that when we were near the river with my family, I didn’t even notice it had a scent.

I’ve never been one to dream about frivolous things. I haven’t longed for romance or been starry-eyed over the idea of a white wedding or a picket fence. But in this moment, with this unexpectedly interesting and surprisingly thoughtful man, I think I know why I haven’t dreamed of those things.

I never knew what romance felt like until now.

Everything about today, from laughing on the train and kissing in the cobblestone streets, to letting strangers control where we go and what we do and sharing a meal and good conversation, has been romantic. It’s as if I’m seeing everything through new eyes. The buildings I’d previously thought were pretty and interesting have taken on a magical quality, like castles in fairy tales. The gentle flow of the river feels relaxing and beautiful, bringing more warm, fuzzy emotions. My rational brain wants to pick all of that apart, but I don’t allow myself to analyze it.

I want to revel in the specialness and intimacy of it. I want to be free from overthinking just for today.

Fear tries to bully its way in against my efforts to abandon rational thinking, but my trust in Clay feels like a buffer protecting me. From what, I have no idea, but once again, I shut down the urge to overthink it, allowing myself to revel in all these remarkable, inexplicable feelings.

Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t turn off that easily, and in the far recesses of my mind, I hear a whisper about this being fleeting, not real, a fling. I know that’s all it can ever be. We live in different worlds, and they’re very far apart in every way that counts. But for the first time in my adult life, something feels too good to ruin it with reality, and I cling to it with everything I have.

We walk in comfortable silence, serenaded by the gentle flow of the river and the sounds of life taking place around us. Clay holds me a little tighter each time people walk past, and I like that, too. Fling or not, it’s a luxurious feeling to be this content, to feel this safe and special.

When he kisses my temple and lets go of me to pull out his phone, I long to be closer. He thumbs out a text, and as he pockets his phone, he says, “Time for our next stop, sweetheart.”