Confessions of a Serial Dater Read Free Page A

surrounding area for eavesdroppers.
    “Don’t worry,” I tell him, leaning my head into the sofa’s comfort. “Everyone’s too busy fawning over him to bother spying on us. And believe me,” I say, as I try to flex my toes a bit, “I could think of a lot worse things to call him. Doesn’t he ever get to you?” Thank God I can take the weight off my feet!
    “Look, I know he can be a bit difficult,” Jonathan says as he sits down next to me and takes my hand, “but he really doesn’t mean half of what he says. He just blusters a bit.”
    I am not that easily mollified.
    “And what were you thinking, apologizing for me like that? Bit off more than I could chew? You made me sound like a complete idiot.” Tired and depressed by my long, disastrous day, my voice wobbles and I am unexpectedly close to tears.
    “I’m sorry, darling.” Jonathan’s arm is around me in an instant, and I lean into his reassuring warmth, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin and cologne. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just—you know how très important this promotion is to me.”
    I worry, sometimes, that his promotion is more important to him than I am.
    “Not more than you, naturellement, ” Jonathan adds, dropping a swift kiss on the top of my head. “But it’s only for ce soir, after all. It’s not like you have to even socialize with Sidney that souvent… ”
    He does have a point. I lift my head from his chest and look into his sweet, worried face.
    “Did you see the look on Graham Hurst’s face? You know how hard I’ve worked for this promotion, and how desperate he is to steal it from me,” Jonathan says, his forehead creasing.
    Poor Jonathan. I do understand the importance of getting on in one’s chosen career. I’m pretty much like that with my employment agency. In the beginning, I had to work even longer hours than I do now to get it up and running. I also understand how important it is to have a sympathetic partner. Ivan, my two-years-ago ex, very quickly ran out of patience with me.
    “I’m sorry, too,” I tell him, reaching up a hand to his face, and he turns his cheek and kisses me right on the palm. “It was just after the Mum episode, and the burning toaster incident and everything, I got a bit short-tempered.”
    “Poor baby, you’ve had a jour terrible. You’re such an angel,” Jonathan tells me, pressing another kiss to my palm. “Whatever did I do to deserve you?”
    How lovely is that? You see, sometimes I worry that we’re not exactly right for each other. But is that just on account of my commitment phobia coming out? Not that I think I have a phobia about commitment….
    “Tell you what we’ll do,” Jonathan tells me. “You stay here. I’m going to get you a nice medicinal brandy, and you’ll feel so much better.”
    “Okay,” I say, happy to take refuge in the foyer for a while. See, Jonathan knows how I feel and is adapting to my needs.
    Before Jonathan, I hadn’t had a boyfriend for two years. Since Ivan, in fact. My friends said that I spent too much time at work to actively avoid looking for Mr. Right. And to avoid missing Ivan. In fact, they also think I actively pushed Ivan away because he was getting too serious. But that’s not true at all. At least, I don’t think it was.
    “Voilà.” Jonathan arrives back, and I smile. I knew I could rely on him. “Now, you take your time to—you know—pull yourself together,” he says as he places my brandy on the coffee table. And then I notice that there is only one brandy glass.
    “Aren’t you having one?”
    “Er, not right now. You don’t mind if I go and do a bit of networking, do you? You’ll be okay here for a few minutes by yourself, won’t you?”
     
    I’m tempted to make my medicinal brandy last as long as possible to avoid going back to the fund-raiser, but I feel strangely abandoned sitting here by myself.
    Of course, I do understand how important it is to network at these