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Silence.
“It was nice meeting you, Meredith,” he said. “You and I can’t go any further.
“Is it because you’re married?” I wanted him to give me the truth. “Is that it?”
“No, I’ve never been married.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You’re just not into me?”
“I’m very into you.” He paused. “But I can’t date you for reasons.”
“Tell me the best one.”
“Well for one, I’m way too old for you.”
“What?” I laughed, damn near falling off the mattress. “You don’t look a day older than thirty. I just turned twenty-five.”
“I’m thirty-nine.”
What? “Oh …” I said, several seconds later.
“Yes, oh.” He let out a low laugh. “Are we good to get off the phone and get on with our lives now?”
“No.” The word slipped out before I could think it through. “I think we should have at least one more date.”
“I don’t.” He ended the call without another word, and I scoffed at his rudeness.
When I finally realized that he wasn’t joking and wasn’t calling me back, I forced myself to get out of the bed. I made my way to the oversized bathroom that showed off a perfect sky view of Central Park.
Starting a bubble bath, I sighed as the suds slowly filled the tub.
I untied my silk robe and felt my phone vibrating in the pocket. Hoping it was Michael coming to his senses about our undeniable chemistry, I quickly pulled it out.
It wasn’t Michael. It was my dad.
Dad: Happy New Year, Meredith! Hope your year is off to a great start. I’m filing the campaign suspension papers when I get back from Italy in a couple weeks, and I’d still love to see you and catch up. Hope you haven’t changed your mind about us… Love, Dad.
Smiling, I assured him that I hadn’t, but before I could hit send on that message, a new email popped onto my screen.
* * *
Subject: One more date…
Since you asked so nicely, I’m willing to consider one more and only one more…
Name the time and place.
In the meantime, this is my email address.
–Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: One more date…
I think you’ll end up begging for way more than one when we’re done…
Next week. Somewhere in SoHo. (I’ll get back to you on that)
PS—Um…How’d you get my email address?
–Meredith
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: One more date…
I can guarantee that I won’t.
Let me know the time and place by tonight.
PS–You’re not the only one with a photographic memory…
–Michael
Meredith
Before
Three weeks later…
* * *
Me: Can I stop by Fahrenheit 900 this weekend? Maybe right before it opens?
Michael: You can stop by whenever you want as long as you don’t bring your damn phone. (Why would you ever want to come before it opens?)
Me: I’m never bringing my phone again. (That was me attempting to be discreet about wanting to have sex in your office … You know, since you clearly have no idea what romance is…)
Michael: Good. I will put you out next time. (Yes, you can stop by Fahrenheit 900 so I can lay you back on my desk and eat your pussy, before bending you over the wood and filling you with my cock from behind. Discreet enough?)
* * *
I blushed and started to type a new message. Over the past few weeks, he’d surpassed all of my wildest fantasies in bed, showed me just how many times I could come in a single night, and pushed my body to its ultimate limit. Our “one more date” had longed turned into every other night, and each one ended with sex that stamped its way onto my memory.
I still wanted more, though. More talking. More romance. More us.
“Um, Meredith?” My father waved his hand in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts in the middle of brunch. “Meredith?”
“Huh?” I blinked a few times. “What’s going on?”
“Well, you’ve done nothing but blush and stare at your phone for the past twenty minutes, so I was wondering if it would be okay if we could talk for five minutes without it.”
“I’m sorry.” I set my phone on the table. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”
“It’s okay.” He gently tapped my hand and signaled for a waitress. “New boyfriend?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I bit my lip before I could say something personal. We weren’t even halfway there yet. “We just really like each other.”
“Hmmm. Well, hopefully one day you’ll be comfortable enough to let him meet me over dinner.”
I nodded, saying nothing. I wasn’t getting my hopes up on rebuilding anything just yet. Even though my heart was ready to jump all in, he’d let me down too many times before.
The moment the waitress took our orders and walked away, my father gently grabbed my hand atop the table and looked into my eyes.
“Look, Meredith,” he said, “I am a terrible father, and I know that to my core. I was also quite terrible to your mother, and I wish there was a way to make things up with her, like I plan to make things up with you.” He looked more genuine than I’d ever known him to be. “I don’t want to take the time I have left with you for granted anymore, and I would like to meet up with you for once a week until…Until you feel like we don’t need weekly check-ins to be around each other. I really want to be a part of your life, and I want to show you I’m capable of being a good father. Please let me.”
