I Dreamed the Perfect Blind Date Was Lying To Me Chapter 02

A man walked in.

I admitted to myself that he was good-looking at first glance.

He was around six one, with broad shoulders, wearing a light gray trench coat over a dark blue shirt.

His hair was cropped short. He had a strong brow and deep-set eyes. When he smiled, he radiated a calm, steady warmth.

He came in, looked around the room, and then his gaze landed on me. It stayed for about two seconds before he gave a slight nod.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Foster. Mrs. Walsh. Sorry I’m late, traffic.”

His voice was pleasant too, low, with a practiced steadiness.

My mom smiled so wide her wrinkles practically vanished.

Mrs. Walsh jumped in. “This is Derek Hamilton. He’s a regimental commander at the base.”

“Derek, this is Emily. Emily Foster. The young lady I told you about.”

He turned to me and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Derek Hamilton.”

I shook his hand. It was dry and warm, with just the right amount of pressure. He held on for two seconds, then let go.

Throughout dinner, he was nearly flawless.

He was attentive to my parents and made sure I was comfortable, and spoke with neither arrogance nor undue modesty.

When talking about work, he was clear and logical. When talking about hobbies, he mentioned running and reading.

When the subject of his divorce came up, he mentioned it himself. “I was married once before. Personality differences. It was amicable, no lingering issues.”

I noticed his eyelid twitch slightly when he said it.

It passed quickly.

By the end of the meal, my father had uncharacteristically drunk two glasses of wine and said, “Derek seems like a decent man.”

My mother’s expression was even more direct. She looked like she wanted to lock it in right then and there.

As we were leaving, Derek offered to drive me home.

My mom was frantically signaling me from behind.

I didn’t refuse.

I got into his car, a black sedan with a clean interior. A uniform jacket was folded on the back seat.

He drove steadily, neither too fast nor too slow.

We chatted a little on the way. Mostly he asked questions, and I answered.

“You work in operations? Must be exhausting.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Do you work late often?”

“Yes.”

“You live alone?”

“Yes.”

When we reached my apartment building, he parked and didn’t hurry to say goodbye.

He turned his head and smiled. “It was really nice meeting you tonight, Emily.”

I nodded, thanked him, and got out.

After a few steps, I looked back. His car hadn’t moved. The window was halfway down, and he gave me a small wave.

I turned around and headed upstairs.

I pushed the door open, kicked off my heels, and collapsed onto the couch.

Honestly, out of the dozen or so blind dates I’d been on, he was the best-looking and most decent one yet.

If I had met him at twenty-five, I might have felt something.

But at thirty-two, there was always a string pulled tight somewhere inside me. It felt too perfect, not real.

Still, I didn’t overthink it.

I showered, dried my hair, climbed into bed, scrolled on my phone for a bit, and as sleep crept in, I turned off the light.

I fell asleep, and then I had a dream.