Searching for Mine(19)

“I’m not looking for a pretty face to date. I’m looking for someone who’s not afraid to get messy and see the pearl buried under the dirty, closed-mouthed oyster. Have you ever done something for a woman without waiting for a pat on the back? Or given a compliment on anything other than her appearance?”

“I respect a woman’s brain. It’s not my fault your entire gender is so obsessed with their appearance, body, and age. Women crave approval and reassurances that they’re beautiful. Don’t get mad at me just because I give you what you really want.”

She shook her head in disgust. “Bull. You don’t bother to dig deeper because you choose not to. You don’t know how to relate to creative women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and tell the truth. It’s easier to see the surface image, isn’t it? Like your date,” she added with a slightly bitter tone.

Temper hit him. How dare she question his intentions? She knew nothing about him. With a low growl, he leaned forward and challenged her back. “Oh, yeah? You think you haven’t judged me by my appearance? By my job or my apartment? I work construction, Ella. I have blistered, raw hands, crazy shifts, and don’t own a suit. I’m thirty-eight years old without a college degree. I don’t live in a fancy house and I’m not a fancy guy. Who’s not being real by saying you never judged me by my appearance?”

The breath gushed out of her lungs and she took a step back. Silence descended as the angry words hung in the air between them. He shook his head in disgust. There was no reason to get upset by the truth. Women saw him as an attractive guy to have sex with but not marry. They ogled his body, not his brains. Most women he dated had no interest in a real conversation unless it was a segue to bed. Nate was the marrying kind. Stable, financially secure, wicked smart.

Not Connor.

“Forget it. This whole thing is ridiculous. I gotta go. I’ll check in with you later about Luke. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He stomped off without another word and refused to look back. But her words lingered in his mind for a long, long time.



* * * *



Valentine’s Day was officially her nemesis.

From the moment Connor knocked on her door, things had drifted into a steep decline. Her son had committed vandalism. A crime. It was completely opposite who he was as a person and how she raised him. Her stomach curled with nausea until she wanted to just drive to the school and confront him. But she agreed having some time to deal with his guilt—hoping he had some—would be a good lesson. After all, she’d seen it a zillion times portrayed in The Brady Bunch.

School was a fog of battling concentration between the ridiculous hormones of college students on a national holiday for love. No one seemed interested in her lessons, preferring to talk about plans for the evening or showing off presents received from companions. The break room and cafeteria were cluttered with ridiculous stuffed animals that had no purpose, too much candy, and balloons formed in the shape of hearts. Her coworkers were just as guilty as the students. She’d caught Bernard, the history professor, trudging down the hall with two-dozen roses in his grip and a silly grin on his lips.

Awful. Just...awful.

Late morning, she looked frantically for her glasses and ended up finding them when she sat down and heard a solid crunch. When she pulled them from under her lap, the broken frame dangled limp between her fingers.

The word vibrated beneath her chest, dying to escape, but still Ella fought it back. Cursing was not a solution to the problem. The day had to end sometime, and then it would be over for a whole year.

By the time she got in her car to drive home, the roads were slippery from the snow beginning to fall. She tried to distract herself with music, but Frank Sinatra crooned on too many stations. When she punched the buttons, sappy love songs filled the speakers.

She clicked it off and drove through the snow in silence, squinting. Dammit. Her spare set of glasses was at home.

An hour later than usual, hands trembling from the slick roads and tension of not being able to properly see, Ella pulled to the curb and cut the engine. She mentally rehearsed the speech she’d been practicing for Luke. Grabbing her briefcase and purse, she tiredly pushed through the door.

And blinked.

“What’s going on?”

Connor and Luke sat on the couch. Two mugs lay on the coffee table. They looked like they had been in deep conversation, and when they heard her voice, both jumped to their feet, looking almost guilty. “Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in,” Connor said. “How are the roads?”

“Terrible. What are you doing here?” she asked.