Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Is it paranoia, though, if currently two mafia families may be waging war against one another over my disappearance?
“Where’s your hometown?” he asks. “Wait. Let me guess. California. Maybe San Francisco.”
“How did you know that?” My lungs tighten. Maybe he is someone from my old life. Could he be the same Matt I met at the club?
“Well, you work online. It’s a wild stab in the dark.”
I laugh, partly out of relief. “Yeah. You got me.”
Relax, I tell myself. Millions of people were born and raised in San Francisco. I grope in the dark until I touch the cold stem of my wine glass and take a gulp.
“Man, I miss that place,” Matt says.
I almost choke on the wine. “You’ve been there?”
“Yeah. I still live there,” he says in a casual tone. Too casual, surely, for him to be a hired man sent to hunt me down. “I’m on a business trip right now, and it’s taking longer than expected.”
“Oh. That’s annoying.”
“Tell me about it,” Matt says. “I was supposed to see someone a couple of weeks ago, but the meeting kept getting delayed. Everything’s under control now, though. I’ve tracked down that person.”
He’s not talking about me, right?
Of course he’s not. Stop being crazy. This is just a date.
Yes, I grew up in a crazy environment where surveillance, violence, and illegal activities were commonplace. But this is the real world. Things like that don’t happen.
Even if the man sitting in front of me is the same Matt who’s the father of my child, he’s not going to pose any threat to Jack. He doesn’t even know Jack exists, so he’d never track me down to sue for custody. That’s just an insane scenario my paranoid mind dreamed up.
As far as Jack’s father is concerned, I’m just a one night stand who ghosted him. Even if the man sitting across the table is really him, I could just say I’m not interested in dating him and that would be the end of it.
“So how do you find the food?” I steer the conversation toward a safe topic.
“It’s nice.” Matt pauses. “But you know what I’d rather be having?”
I congratulate myself on coming up with a nice, safe thing to talk about, like all the restaurants I miss in San Francisco. “What?”
“Something I’ve hunted myself.” Danger laces Matt’s voice.
A chill runs down my arms. “Oh. You, uh, you’re into hunting, huh?”
“Yeah. I love the outdoors. How about you? Have you ever gone hiking?”
My breath catches in my throat. “Yeah. I used to. Not anymore, though.”
Is it just me, or has this dinner conversation taken a dangerous turn? I rest my fork on the table. I haven’t been eating for a while. I can barely swallow. It’s not like Matt can tell if I’m eating anyway.
That’s right. He can’t see me. Maybe I can make a rush for the door before he notices I’m gone?
No. That would be crazy.
Don’t be crazy, I tell myself. Crazy draws attention. That’s the last thing I need.
I should lay low. Act normal. Behave like a normal twenty-something out on a date.
Pick up my wine glass, I tip my head and let the alcohol wash down my throat.
“Why not?” Matt asks.
“I don’t have much free time. I’m trying to build a design business, and it’s not easy.” I don’t normally like to talk about myself, but I’m not my normal self tonight. I’m freaked out.
This dark dining thing was a bad idea. I’ve got to tell Lily to stop meddling in my love life because I’m perfectly happy with its lack of existence.
I tell Matt about the online platforms where I offer my work, about the designers from all over the world who are willing to work for less pay than me, about the vague emails I get from clients demanding countless revisions.
By the time the waitress comes to bring out the desserts, I’ve recounted everything there is to know about my job.
“Wow.” Matt lets out a low whistle. “You sound like a busy girl. I thought designers just . . . designed.”
“Well, running a design business is different from just working as a designer,” I say, eager to continue talking business.
The alcohol is supplying me with plenty of boring details to share. It’s not like I want a second date—I’d rather not have anything to do with anyone from my hometown—so who cares if he finds me dull?
“Don’t you want to take a vacation sometimes?” Matt asks.
“Well, yeah. Sometimes. But I can’t.” I bite back the words before I tell him I have a son I can’t leave home alone.
“It’s good to get away every once in a while. But it’s probably easier for me to say that because I can ask someone to cover for me at work. You’re a one-woman show.”
“Yeah.” I smile to myself in the dark, letting the alcoholic buzz buoy me to a place far away from my anxious thoughts.