See Jane Date by Melissa Senate

Author:Melissa Senate
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Red Dress Ink
Published: 2001-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

As Timothy and I walked north along the East River promenade, even the ugly Triborough Bridge managed to appear romantic. The Roosevelt Island tram was swinging its way high above our heads toward the little island between us and Queens. We moved out of the way of a pack of nighttime joggers wearing reflective socks. A few couples walked slowly in each direction.

And now I was one of them. I was one of the couples that I used to look wistfully at, wishing I could be walking hand in hand down the street, down the promenade, in the park, wherever.

Timothy and I weren’t holding hands, of course. Not yet, anyway. I suddenly wished I had telepathy. I wanted to know what he was thinking—of me, of our date, of whether he wanted to see me again.

The couple in front of us had lit cigarettes; we were hit full in the face with the heavy stink of exhaled smoke. Timothy grimaced and waved it away. All I could do was smile. I wasn’t a smoker. Not anymore. And not once had I twitched tonight.

“I asked Jeff if you smoked,” Timothy said. “But he told me he wasn’t sure. I usually wouldn’t go on a blind date unless I knew for sure the woman wasn’t a smoker, but something about the way he described you made me think there was something there. Something, I don’t know…”

I wanted to finish his sentence. Something special. I hadn’t been a special anything to anyone since the days when Max Reardon had still loved me.

And I wouldn’t be anything to Timothy had Jeff been either unkind enough or aware enough to recall that I smoked. Or used to. Last night’s decision to quit might very well get me much, much more than a date to a wedding.

“So this is you, right?” he asked as we neared the steps leading up to the 81st Street crossover.

I nodded. How had we gotten here so fast? It wasn’t time for this date to end. It would never be time. But it was two o’clock in the morning.

“Are you free Tuesday night?” Timothy asked. “If you want to see me again, that is,” he added, the dimple flashing.

I felt like doing cartwheels. “Tuesday?” I repeated, pretending to mentally consult my datebook. “Yes. I’m definitely free.”

That was actually a lie. Blind Date #5, the very last one, was scheduled for Tuesday. Driscoll Something. But he could be unscheduled. Pronto.

“Tuesday, it is, then,” he confirmed. He reached out his hand and I slipped mine into his. His hand was soft and warm and big, his fingers strong and steady as a doctor’s should be.

We stood on the concrete overpass between the East River and East End Avenue, the FDR Drive and its nonstop traffic whizzing directly underneath us. Timothy looked at me. And then, ever so slowly, he tilted his face and kissed me, in front of everyone who was driving south. Then he took my hand and we walked across East End Avenue to my apartment building.

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