Dating-ish (Knitting in the City #6)(30)

Noting his surly expression, I turned, hoping to intercept the man before he left, noting that the cuddler had already disappeared back down the hall.

"Excuse me, sir." Stepping forward, I extended my hand. "I'm a journalist, writing a story about unconventional touch therapy. I was hoping you'd be willing to answer a few questions. It should only take five minutes."



       
         
       
        

In all honesty, I had no idea how long my questions would take. But people were more likely to give you their time if you gave them a quote.

The man hesitated, glancing at me, my hand, and then at Matt at my side. Pulling his jacket on, he slowly accepted my hand for a shake, still looking skeptical.

"I don't mind, I guess. I just don't want to share my name."

"Absolutely," I agreed immediately. "It would be completely anonymous. And no pictures either."

"Okay. Fine." His gaze intensified. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you're willing to share about your experience with professional cuddling. But we can start with your impetus for seeking it out. Do you mind telling me why you decided to use a professional cuddler?"

The man scrutinized me for a beat, his expression somber, then said, "My wife died. Six months ago. Brain tumor."

"I'm so sorry," I said, giving him a subdued, sympathetic smile. It was possibly similar to the one he'd just received from his cuddler.

He nodded, a flash of pain sparking behind his eyes. "We didn't have any children, never wanted any. She was it for me, more than enough. She was my soulmate." His eyes misted over, his words trembling. Clearing his throat and blinking away the moisture, he continued. "I miss holding her hand, hugging her close as we fell asleep. That's what I miss the most. Without her, I feel lost, and I don't mind saying so. I heard about this place from a psychologist buddy-or maybe he's a psychiatrist, who knows-but he said maybe it would help me cope with my loss. So I gave it a try."

I made mental notes about the cadence of his voice, the color of his shirt, the way he nibbled at his bottom lip and paused between thoughts.

"Does it help?" I asked softly.

"It does. I don't think people realize how lonely it is, after having someone alongside you half your life. And then suddenly, she's gone. Giselle is a really nice young lady, very compassionate."

I assumed Giselle was his cuddler.

"What do you do, specifically, with her? Do you hold hands?"

"Yes. We always hold hands. Even if we do nothing else."

"Anything else? Only if you're comfortable sharing, of course."

He scratched his neck. "Sometimes she holds me while we're lying down. Sometimes we hug standing up. It's nothing to be ashamed of, at least I don't think so. It's a crutch, for me. I don't have anyone else on this earth. What other choice do I have? Other than being lonely."

"What about dating? Finding another person?"

He shook his head, his mouth a resolute line. "No. I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I can't betray Patty that way. And doing that wouldn't be very kind, would it? To another person? When I could never love them." 

I nodded, seeing his point.

"Anything else you need?" The man's sad eyes moved between Matt and me.

"No. Thank you. I appreciate your time." I shook the man's hand again, moving out of his way so he could leave, and turned to Matt once he was gone.

"Hmm." Matt was nodding, very slowly, a thoughtful expression on his features.

"How are those judgy pants fitting now, Professor?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

The side of his mouth hitched, his tone somber as he said, "Point made."

"Marie?"

We both turned at the sound of my name, finding the aforementioned Giselle glaring at me with barely controlled irritation.

"Yes?" I turned to face her, prepared to explain that Rebecca-the owner of the studio-had given me approval to interview customers when we'd spoken on the phone earlier in the week.

Her gaze slid to Matt and lost some of its hardness as her eyes moved over him. "Are you the walk-in?"

He nodded, extending his hand toward her. "Yes. I'm Matt."

She gave him a small but genuine smile, accepting his handshake before her gaze moved back to me. Like a switch, her features arranged themselves into a mask of intense irritation.

"Come with me," she said, spinning on her heel.

Matt and I glanced at each other, but did as we were told, following the woman down the hall, past a series of doors. I glanced into the three rooms we passed, finding one was a break room and the other two looked like bedrooms.