I Dreamed the Perfect Blind Date Was Lying To Me Chapter 10

“I can I help you?” She stood up and lifted her leg off the barre.

I stood in the doorway. Suddenly I didn’t know how to say what I came to say.

All the lines I had rehearsed disappeared.

So I said the simplest thing I could.

“Hi. My name is Emily Foster. Someone set me up on a blind date with Derek Hamilton. I’d like to talk to you about him.”

Her expression changed at the name Derek Hamilton.

Not anger. Not disgust.

Something more complicated. Like dropping a stone into deep water. The surface stayed still, but ripples spread at the bottom.

She was quiet for a few seconds, then she said, “Come in.”

She poured me a glass of water.

We sat on stools in the corner of the studio, face to face.

She didn’t ask how I found her or why I came.

She just looked at me for a moment and then said, “What do you want to know?”

“Leo,” I said.

Her eyes flickered.

“Is Leo your son, yours and Derek’s?”

She lowered her head, hands on her knees, thumbs slowly rubbing an old scar on the back of her hand. “Yes.”

“He told me he doesn’t have children.”

She looked up at me. There was no surprise in her eyes.

“Of course he did.” Her voice was very soft.

“That’s how he is. When he needs you, he says all the right things. When he doesn’t need you anymore, you stop existing. Even Leo.”

My hands clenched on my knees.

“Why did you get divorced?”

She was silent for a long time.

The piano music had stopped. Only the occasional sound of a car horn drifted through the window.

“Because he didn’t need a wife,” she finally said. “He needed a nanny. A public image. A tool.”

“When I was with USO, he needed my status to move up. When my health failed and I couldn’t perform anymore, he didn’t need me.”

Her voice was flat, like she was talking about something that happened to someone else.

But her hands were shaking.

“Who has Leo?” I asked.

“He does. Because his situation is more stable. But honestly, Leo lives with Derek’s mother in their hometown. Derek rarely sees him.”

“I visit once a month. His mother won’t let me inside. She says I don’t deserve to be there.”

She smiled. Her eyes were red, but no tears fell.

“So he’s looking for the next one,” she said, looking at me. “Someone willing to relocate. Someone willing to raise a child. Someone willing to give up her own career.”

“He needs someone to take care of Leo so he can focus on his career. If he doesn’t advance soon, Leo is a burden. So he needs someone to take over.”

My heart twisted, not from anger, but because this matched the dream. Step by step, every detail.

His warmth was a mask. His decency was a tool. His apologies were strategy.

All for one purpose: to make me willingly walk into that fourth-floor unit, put on an apron, stand at the stove, and become a piece on his chessboard.

I stood up. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Julie stood up too, one hand on the barre.

She looked at me. “You’re not going to marry him, are you?”

I shook my head.

She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “Good.”

I walked to the door, then turned back.

“Julie,” I said, “do you want to fight for custody of Leo?”

Her eyes lit up for an instant, then dimmed. “I tried. I lost. He has too many connections.”

I nodded, pulling a business card from my bag, Clara’s card, and placed it on the stool beside her.

“Talk to her. I don’t know if it will help. But try.”

Julie looked down at the card and said nothing.

I left.

On the bus ride home, I leaned against the window, watching the scenery blur past.

Fields. Tunnels. A gray line of sky in the distance.

Three unread messages on my phone.

My mom: [Derek wants to take you for coffee this weekend. Just the two of you. What do you think?]

Mrs. Walsh: [Emily, Derek is sincere. Give him another chance.]

Derek from a new number: [Emily, sorry to reach out again. I’ve been thinking about what happened. If you’re free this weekend, I’d like to talk face to face. Your choice of time and place.]

Three messages, pressure from three directions.

I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I put my phone on airplane mode and closed my eyes.

Julie’s words echoed in my head.

“He didn’t need a wife. He needed a nanny. An image. A tool.”

Fine. If you see me as a tool, then let me show you what happens when that tool flips the board.