Catch Him(7)

“What I do?”

“For work. I mean why are you here? I assume it’s business.”

“Some, yes. I have an interest in a little startup that I thought I would pop over and check up on, and I have some legal matters I need to take care of.”

“You’re not talking like… Google?”

He chuckled. “No. Something far less ambitious I’m afraid. Although perhaps in the future. One never knows. Mostly I’m here because I wanted to run away.”

“What did you want to run away from?”

“Home. Isn’t that what all people want to run away from?”

Sinead didn’t say anything to that. Too many memories would cloud her princess-for-a-day date and she didn’t want them intruding. Instead she waited for him to explain.

Leaning forward, he reached for his wine glass, looking more at it than her. “As I said earlier I’m rather a known commodity back in London. The circle of people I mingle with is fairly small, and I started to feel like… none of them were real. Just bodies with money. Looking for the next thing to buy, the next thing to get high with, the next method of maintaining their youth and beauty. I started to feel like maybe I wasn’t real anymore either. Like I was playing this part, but I had long ago lost who I was as a person. I didn’t care for the feeling. A lucky coincidence my mate rang and needed a place to stay after his holiday—and I thought two birds, one stone. I could check on my interests here and maybe take a break from being myself.”

“What happened to his wife?”

“Sorry?”

“Your friend. The pictures you had were of his wedding, but you only ever mention him. Not him and his wife.”

David rolled his eyes. “Oh, didn’t I mention that his wedding was the single best day of their relationship? Every day after that was shit. They divorced recently.”

“Jaded much?”

“About relationships? I am, I’m afraid. My last one was… toxic. What about you?”

Sinead thought about Harry, who she’d dated for about six months over two years ago. He was a nice guy. They had nice sex. They didn’t talk much to each other really, and eventually it just ended. Not with a fight or any formal breakup. More it was like they realized how absolutely and completely passionless they were as a couple.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t had any great experiences, but I know love exists.”

“Your parents?”

She nodded. “They were really in love. So much that it basically destroyed my dad when she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. It was a long time ago. I was sixteen.”

“Does that mean you don’t miss her?”

“No.” She nodded, liking that he understood. “I miss her every day still.”

“Where is your father now?”

Sinead didn’t really want to talk about her father. She didn’t want to explain to the sophisticated, wealthy businessman that her dad had been a good cop, then a bad cop. Then a low-level criminal who probably collected protection money for the mob.

“He’s in San Francisco,” she said vaguely.

Another plate arrived fortunately to prevent him from asking any more questions. This was a fish course, which was evident by the fact that the actual fish heads and tails were still on the plate.

For the rest of the evening, Sinead ate food she never would have considered, drank wine she guessed cost more than her shoes, and let herself be captivated by all that was David.

They ended up making their way to Fisherman’s Wharf, where she removed her shoes and walked alongside him barefoot like a boho. The sharp briny smell of the water and the seals filled the air while people milled around the restaurants and shops.

To say it had been the best date she’d ever had was an understatement, and it made her think of what he said before. Why not want the best? Why settle? Something she’d been doing for way too long with her life.

She wanted to capture this moment. She reached for the small black purse that fortunately worked with her dress and took out her cell phone. “Take a picture with me,” she said as she pressed against him and held the phone. Except he removed it from her hand instead.

“I hate pictures, and I most especially hate selfies,” he said. “But I’ll take a picture of you in your lovely dress. Put on your shoes.”

She did and pressed her hand on her hip in what she hoped looked sexy, but probably looked like someone trying to be sexy.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured in her ear even as he handed her the phone back.

“You’re full of shit. But I don’t care. I had a nice time,” she said because she wanted him to know.