January
"I'm the queen of bad dates," Aubree Cole muttered as she stood to watch her date and his fine pair of jeans, walk out the front door of Love Potion9, Chicago's trendiest new bar. He was already digging into the back pocket of those fine jeans; she knew what was coming before she heard the ping from her phone. Lifting it off the table, she saw the notification from the dating app Meet Cute. She read the message with dread.
LongIsland23 says: had a nice time but I don't think we're a fit.
Aubree slumped back into the booth and replayed the date from start to finish. All the awkward pauses rather than pleasant silences, the enthusiasm she'd had to be on a date and his apparent apprehension over her excitement. Had she seemed too eager? Too pathetic?
Through the windows, she could see the streets full of snow with people bundled up as they walked past. By contrast, the bar was warm, and popular music—the kind she liked, came in through the speakers overhead but not too loud. Despite the bar's welcoming atmosphere, Aubree couldn't help but feel detached from the outside world and even from the people in the room. She couldn't seem to manage a human connection in a romantic way. Dating hadn't been this hard in high school or college.
She glanced at her watch. It was only 9 o'clock, but she didn't have the strength to walk the one block to her apartment just yet. She'd really hoped LongIsland23 would've been the One.
He had been charming and sexy in their messages. He joked about his dog and dropped innuendos in a way that left her anticipating each message. She'd been so excited to see him in the flesh and to touch that flesh. In person, he'd been every bit the investment banker stereotype: cold and stiff.
Pulling the app up again, she unmatched her profile from his and almost hit the button to start swiping again but stopped herself. What was the point? She had twelve bad dates in a row; there was no Mr. Perfect in sight. She felt like she was at the end of her rope when it came to dating. She glanced out the window again. Couples walked past hand in hand. It all seemed so easy, but she knew love and romance were anything but easy.
God that stuff shouldn't matter. She was a liberated, independent woman of thirty—three with a fantastic job at the Chicago Board of Trade as the director of equities. She was fine. She had a nice apartment and a healthy 401k. She didn't need Mr. Perfect. But something was missing in her life. All of her friends were married with the whole 2.5 kid's thing. Aubree had put so much effort into her career that until last year, she hadn't stopped working long enough to realize that she was lonely.
One night, after half a bottle of Pinot Grigio, she had let her best friend Amanda talk her into signing up for a dating app called Meet Cute. For a few days, she hadn't bothered to actually attempt matching with anyone. One weekend she was shopping and ran into an old college boyfriend, one who'd never dated a woman more than a month before dumping them. He'd been in a department store with his wife and two kids—a picture—perfect family. How Mr. Can't Settle Down had gotten married while she was still single had sent her straight back to the Meet Cute app. Since then, her dating life had gone from nonexistent to a train wreck.
She stared at the long island iced tea she'd ordered because she thought it would be cute given her date's screen name. The guy hadn't even cracked a smile when she explained her drink choice nor had he stuck around long enough to pay for his drink.
With a heavy sigh, Aubree called it a night. If she got home in time, she could watch one of those good thriller movies she'd been meaning to watch forever. She picked up her purse and headed toward the bar to settle her tab.
She glanced around and set her clutch down on the cherry wood bar top. The bar was empty. She leaned forward and peered over the edge of the bar to see if there might be a bartender crouched down to grab extra glasses or something. Aubree was still propped up over the counter, her elbows braced on the wood as the door at the end of one wall behind the bar swung open and a man stepped out behind the bar.
She couldn't help but stare at him. The man was gorgeous. Okay, way beyond gorgeous. He had broad shoulders and wore a light blue button up shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, exposing sun—tanned muscled skin. His trim waist accented by dark blue jeans that fit like a glove. Aubree's mouth ran dry as her gaze traveled up his body to his face.
He looked like Chris Hemsworth with a chiseled face that held a hint of delicious edginess. She usually fell for men who had that sweet, cute sort of boy—next—door look. But this guy? He was the boy next door who had aged a decade and then joined the Marines. A lock of dark blonde hair fell into his blue eyes; it was a little long, just enough that he could casually run his fingers through it. She noticed his mouth and those full lips that were moving as he stood in front of her. Then those lips stopped moving and he stared at her expectantly.
"Huh?" She suddenly blurted as she realized with complete and total mortification that the man had been talking to her.
"Another Long Island iced tea?" he asked in the most gorgeous Australian accent.
"Oh… no. Thanks." She blushed. "I just need to settle the tab for our table."
"Sure, hang on." He retrieved a black tablet and ran her table number. "Two drinks?"
"Yeah… My date had to leave early so—"
"So, he made you pay?" A look of open disgust crossed the man's face before he masked it with politeness.
"Yeah… Guess that should've been a tipoff that he wasn't the one." She retrieved her card and slid it over the lacquered bar surface toward him. The man took the card to process her payment. When he gave her the receipt, she saw only one drink on the tab.
"I had two drinks," she reminded him.
The bartender's lips twitched. "No woman in this bar is going to pay for a man's drink after being ditched on a date."
Aubree winced. "You saw him ditch me, huh?" She wanted to die right there. Everyone nearby must have seen her crash and burn on her date.
"I saw that asshole leave. So yeah, you don't pay for him."
"Thanks." She could afford to pay for the extra drink, but she appreciated the gesture.
"You want to talk about it?" The man pulled out a glass and set it down before her, but when she started to reach for her wallet again, he smiled.
