Table for One: An Inspirational Romance

by Leah Atwood

  She left her desk and went down the short hallway to her bedroom. Opening the closet door, she wished she had a walk-in closet, but the courtyard garden view from her balcony more than made up for the small inconvenience.

  This occasion called for her favorite black dress. The dark color helped disguise the extra pounds she carried, and the cinched waist accentuated her hourglass figure. Her favorite part of the dress was the three-quarter length sleeves. Confidence rarely became a problem for her, but something about her arms showing showered her with insecurity. The lightweight cotton material and design gave the dress versatility for a night out or a church service.

  She pulled the dress off the hanger, relieved to see it didn’t require ironing. With her laundry habits, she never knew. Putting away laundry came high on her list of dislikes, five spots above her arms, but two spots below snakes, which topped the list. At any given time, she had a basket of clothes to fold, which naturally led to wrinkles. Embarrassing really, since she only had herself to look after, but didn’t everyone have that one chore they detested? At least her bathrooms were sparkling clean.

  After she had draped the dress across the bed, she searched her jewelry armoire. She chose a box chain necklace with metallic beads to add a bit of flirtiness to the outfit and pulled out the bottom drawer to retrieve the matching bracelet. No earrings. She was the only thirty-something female she knew without pierced ears, but after three attempts as a child, she accepted the fact her ears were hypersensitive to any metal she tried to wear in them, precious or not.

  She gathered her hair in one hand and stared in the mirror. “What to do, what to do?”

  The advent of spring took her out in the sunshine at every opportunity, and her hair color had transformed from a honey blonde shade to a lightened butterscotch. A few natural highlights were dispersed throughout the tresses, visible mainly when she fixed her hair in an updo. Styling her hair up to show off her highlights would be wasted in a darkened restaurant in the late evening. No time for hot rollers—besides, she didn’t want to go overboard.

  Although she aimed to dress to impress, she rarely curled her hair, and she wanted to leave a realistic impression on the unsuspecting stranger. If she even found a man sitting alone. Not too many people, male or female, were comfortable eating out alone. Thanks to her blog, she’d helped numerous people overcome that fear, but it still existed in too many people.

  Staring in the mirror still, she opted for a dab of hair product at her roots, then took a blow dryer to them for a touch of added volume. The result gave her a sleek style, but one that didn’t lay flat against her head and make her face look rounder.

  After a quick application of mascara and lipstick, then a touch of blush to bring out the contours of her cheekbones, she changed into the dress and slipped on her favorite black heels. She stepped back to see the length of herself in the mirror. The full effect of her appearance warranted a wide smile.

  She grabbed the tube of lipstick, shoved it in her purse, then left out the door. Not until she sat behind the steering wheel of her Passat did her bravado falter. Even her outgoing nature had its limits.

  Unfortunately for her, at least in this case, once she made up her mind to do something, she couldn’t back out. It was a matter of conviction to follow through to the end, and maybe a bit of pride. Okay, a whole lot of pride. Her parents had grilled into her that failure wasn’t an option, and the best way to fail was to quit. Who wanted to be labeled a failure or a quitter?

  Dragging in a long breath, she fought the temptation to run her hands through her hair. What had she been thinking? Who crashes a random stranger’s dinner? Maybe this was one time she could back away from an idea. There was a first time for everything. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive to decide she should do it.

  As she drove out of the parking lot, she prayed there would be no man dining alone, thus giving her an easy out. Get it together. It’s not that big of a deal. Halfway to the restaurant, her confidence reappeared. This was an experiment for the sake of her readers, nothing personal, just a facet of her job.

  Preoccupied scripting what she would say to the yet unknown man, she passed the Italian restaurant she’d planned to patronize. Instead of fighting a left turn in heavy Friday night traffic, she drove five more blocks to an upscale steakhouse. The steaks weren’t very good, but they had crab cakes that rivaled ones she’d eaten on Maryland’s eastern shore.

  She didn’t see any empty parking spots available, so rather than circle the lot, she drove to the valet and handed him her keys. Clutching her purse tightly, she straightened her back and raised her chin. Showtime.

  With a confident stance, she met the gaze of the hostess and pointed toward the dining room. “My party’s already in there waiting for me. Is it okay if I go meet them?”

  It wasn’t technically a lie. The party simply didn’t know she’d be joining him.

  “What name is it under? I’ll show you the way.”

  The door jingled behind Lauren. Saved by the bell.

  “It’s okay. I can find them on my own.” She flashed a smile and discreetly tipped her head backward to the new arrivals. “No sense making this group wait.”

  “All right.” The hostess gestured for her to enter the dining room before turning her attention to the next guests.

  Lauren strode past the hostess stand into a room filled with soft lighting, jazz music, and quiet conversations. She shot casual glances around the room, searching for men sitting alone. Only one stood out.

  A redheaded, Prince Harry doppelgänger. He sat hunched over, but she guessed him to be around five feet, eleven inches tall. The perfect height, in her opinion, for someone her height of four inches over five feet.

  She searched the table for a second plate setting but didn’t see one. There were two drinks, but one was water, which didn’t indicate anything. She often ordered water along with tea or soda. Just to be certain he was alone, she went to the restroom to kill a few minutes. While in there, she applied a new layer of lipstick. Took another deep breath.

  Here I go. Despite her mantra, she didn’t move.

  An elderly lady opened the bathroom door, offered a smile, then disappeared into a stall.

  She’d been spotted. If the lady exited the stall and Lauren still stood there, an awkward situation would ensue. The kind lady looked to be a grandmotherly type who would ask if she was okay, then Lauren would have to come up with an excuse as to why she remained in the bathroom doing nothing.

  Rather than face that, she hiked her shoulders and silently repeated her planned greeting. She peeked out of the bathroom. Prince Harry still sat alone.

  She walked toward him, as if she belonged at the table, then tapped on his shoulder. “Excuse me, are you dining alone?”

  “No, um, yes, I guess.” His brows crinkled with confusion.

  From her or something else? He seemed distracted.

  “May I join you?” The smile she offered him was mildly exaggerated for what the occasion required, but she needed to work her best angles. “There’s a wait for a table, and I’m just dying for a taste of their crab cakes, but unfortunately I’m on a time constraint.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes shifted around the room, probably searching for hidden cameras. He returned his gaze to her, peering at her with full-fledged fascination. “Have a seat.”

  Chapter Three

  Trevor eyed the woman across from him, attempting to figure out what she was up to. Her reason to join him was an obvious ruse as many tables remained empty.

  After breaking off his relationship with Mariah only minutes ago, he wasn’t particularly in the mood for company, but something about this woman’s jovial smile tugged at him. And to be honest, he was intrigued by a woman who would approach a stranger and ask to share his table. His night had taken a second unforeseen twist.

  The woman sat in her chair, appearing less confident than she had moments prior, and fiddled with the napkin ring holdin
g her silverware. He took advantage of those seconds of her downcast gaze to appraise her. Her physical appearance was a stark contrast to Mariah. This woman was shorter, carried extra pounds, and had blonde hair and pale skin compared to Mariah’s darker features inherited from her Chilean ancestry.

  That he found this woman attractive, proved to himself that he’d never had a “type.” Not that he had any business thinking in those terms. Good grief, he’d just broken up with his long-term girlfriend to whom he’d planned to propose tonight. He wasn’t about to jump into another relationship or even flirtation.

  She raised her head, and their eyes locked.

  A nervous laugh bubbled from her. “I have a confession. There were plenty of tables available, but I needed an excuse to sit here.”

  He made a point of scanning the room and grinned. “I guessed that much. What I can’t figure out is why.”

  “It’s an experiment.” A bashful smile flitted across her lips.

  “An experiment?”

  Before she could answer, Tia brought out his prime rib and set the plate in front of him. He was certain a gossip mill in the kitchen had let her know not to deliver Mariah’s order—the one time gossip worked out for good.

  Tia’s eyes widened when she looked at the new woman, then composed herself in a professional manner. “May I place an order for you?”

  The woman froze with her mouth open, about to speak.

  Trevor came to her rescue. “She’ll have the crab cake dinner.”

  She mouthed thank you, and he answered with a wink.

  “What two sides?” Tia’s gaze jumped from him to the woman.

  “Potatoes au gratin and a side salad with the house vinaigrette please,” the woman answered.

  “I’ll put the order in right away. Anything to drink?”

  “Unsweet tea, please.”

  Tia walked away, leaving him alone again with the mystery woman.

  “I’m Trevor, by the way.” He extended a hand over the table.

  “Lauren.” She shook his hand before a mock glower covered her face. “Though, now that we’re not strangers, I’m not sure my experiment still counts.”

  He chuckled, amused by his new dinner companion. “We don’t know last names, so I’d say we’re still strangers.”

  She shook a finger. “I like the way you think.”

  “What’s this experiment you keep mentioning?” He slid his plate to the side, indicating he’d wait for her meal to arrive.

  “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.” She pointed to his food. “I crashed your party. You shouldn’t suffer on my account.”

  “Suffering would be an overstatement.”

  “Still, I’d feel bad.”

  He shook his head. “My mama taught me to be a gentleman, so you’ll just have to feel bad.”

  She shrugged. “Have it your way, but don’t blame me when it’s lost all the flavor.”

  “Back to the experiment.” His curiosity was piqued to mountain-sized proportions.

  “All right.” She crossed her hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Have you ever heard of the blog, Table for One?”

  “No.”

  “Good. It makes this easier to maintain anonymity.”

  “Except now I can look it up.”

  “You’re ruining my mojo.” She glared at him, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

  “So sorry.” He laughed and rolled his hand in a forward motion. “Continue on.”

  “Several years ago, I started a blog dedicated to finding contentment and joy in being single. It took off beyond what I ever imagined, but lately, it’s become stale.”

  “The blog itself, or are you burnt out?”

  She scrunched her cute little celestial nose. “Both?”

  Tia returned to the table and placed a glass of tea in front of Lauren. “Would you like any sugar or sweeteners?”

  “No, thanks.” After Tia left, Lauren returned her gaze to him. “My heart hasn’t been in the articles I’ve written lately. I needed a creative idea to get the motivational juices flowing again, but I wanted something that would help my readers.”

  “Makes sound business sense.” He drank his soda, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “Not all my readers want to be single, but the usual ways of meeting a man or woman haven’t worked for them.” She pointed a finger at him. “That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Not you specifically, but you happened to be the man sitting alone.”

  The pieces started to come together. “I’m your guinea pig, then.”

  “You could say that. I made a list of unique ways to meet someone and then narrowed down four to try myself.” She grinned before taking a sip of tea. “Tonight’s my first try. Most of my readers are from a Christian background and don’t drink. Even those who do, don’t feel comfortable with the idea of going to a bar for happy hour to meet a man, so I thought of an alternative.”

  “Which is to find a poor unexpecting soul dining alone and ask to join them?”

  She rubbed a finger under her nose. “When you say it like that…”

  “I think it’s an ingenious idea, to tell the truth.” He straightened his posture. “It’s bold and takes guts, says a lot about the person who would follow through with it.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I’m glad you think so. I had this idea an hour before leaving the house tonight and hadn’t thought it all the way through. As I drove, I doubted myself, worried I’d come off brash.”

  “Not a bit.” He paused when Tia dropped off Lauren’s salad, then continued after she’d walked away. “Done with the wrong approach, I suppose it could have been, but you pulled it off well.”

  “Why, thank you.” Using her fork, she picked out the olives in her salad and set them on the bread plate.

  His stomach growled. Now that she had part of her meal, he broke off a piece of a yeast roll and ate it. “Do you think it’s a viable option, though? How many people actually go out to eat alone at a restaurant?”

  “You were here alone, weren’t you?” she answered, not missing a beat.

  “Not exactly.” His lips contorted to a near frown.

  A horrified expression covered her face as she choked on her salad and coughed. Her head jerked from side to side as if looking for someone. “I’m so sorry. When you said—”

  He cut her off to ease her worries. “I am here alone. Now.”

  Creases formed along her forehead, and she wrinkled her cute nose again. “What do you mean? What happened?”

  “Do you want the short or long version?”

  The beginning of a smile formed. “I’ve got time.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed hold of the ring box and pulled it out. “This happened. Or rather, didn’t happen.”

  A hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no. She said no?”

  “I never asked.” He leaned back, releasing a long sigh. “I had doubts but ignored them. All night, they kept whispering to me, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

  “Now, or ever?”

  “Ever. Not with Mariah, at least.” He slipped the ring back in his pocket, not without wondering if Mariah would have thought the stone large enough. “Instead of proposing later tonight as planned, I broke up with her before our meals came.”

  “Wow.” Pushing away the remainder of her salad, she held eye contact. “That sounds like a scene from a movie.”

  A rumble of laughter escaped before he could stop it. “And then you came in, making it even more so.”

  “Always glad to be of service.” She performed a half-bow from her seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you still here? Wouldn’t most people have left?”

  “I’m not most men.” He chuckled then turned serious. “The real answer is I didn’t know what to do. The decision to end the relationship came so suddenly, I haven’t even processed it. I’d already ordered, so figured I’d eat then go from there.”

  “How
long were you together?”

  “Three years. A lot of time invested then lost.” He cringed. “I’ll have lots of explaining to do when I tell my family. They’re convinced I have a fear of commitment.”

  “Do you?”

  He flinched. “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

  “Sorry.” Pink tinted her cheeks. “Sometimes I forget to filter my thoughts.”

  “To answer your question, no. Marriage isn’t a commitment I’ve purposely avoided, but I haven’t met a woman I can picture life with. Mariah was the closest, but we would have been miserable together in the long run.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Not to my parents and siblings. They all married in their early twenties.” His mouth went dry, and he took a long swig of his soda. “Thirty-eight and single, never married is unheard of in my family.”

  “My family firmly believes my future depends on the number of blind dates they attempt to send me on.” Lauren scowled. “Notice, I said attempt.”

  Lauren’s full meal was delivered and several minutes passed without conversation as they ate.

  They ended the evening sharing laughter over their worst dates ever. When the check came, they were still chuckling.

  Lauren pulled out her wallet and handed over two twenty dollar bills. “This should cover mine.”

  He shoved away the offered money. “I’ve got it.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Let me, please. If tonight were a date, it wouldn’t be one I’d groan about years from now.” He slipped a card from his wallet and set it in the black holder. “Your company was a bright spot when I needed one.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile lit the space between them. “I’ll admit, I had no idea what would happen tonight, but I enjoyed the evening much more than I expected.”

  A mischievous grin played on his mouth. “Will I be able to read about it on your blog soon?”