I Dreamed the Perfect Blind Date Was Lying To Me Chapter 05

My back went rigid.

“Hello, Ms. Foster. I noticed you deleted me last night. I wasn’t sure if it was a mistake, so I wanted to check in.”

He said it calmly, even with a hint of a smile in his voice.

But I could hear it, that polite refusal to back down.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I said.

Two seconds of silence on the line.

“Would you be willing to tell me why?”

“Not really.”

“Ms. Foster—”

“Mr. Hamilton, I said we’re not a good match. That’s all. Thank you for the ride home the other night, but this is where it ends.”

I hung up, my palms damp.

I blocked that number too.

That night, I searched online for a long time.

[Derek Hamilton. Fort Ashford. Regimental commander.]

Almost nothing came up.

One article on a base’s official page mentioned a “Commander Derek Hamilton” leading a training exercise.

There was a group photo. He stood in the second row, third from the right, wearing a service cap, his expression serious.

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Then I searched other terms: [Derek Hamilton divorce. Derek Hamilton son.]

Nothing at all.

Of course not. A military officer’s private life isn’t posted online.

I closed the browser and lay down.

The dream wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Maybe I was so resistant to blind dating that my subconscious had conjured the worst possible outcome to scare me straight.

There was a psychological term for it, anxious forecasting.

Right. Anxious forecasting.

After giving myself that mental pep talk, I turned off the light.

This time, no dreams.

But the next day at noon, something happened.

I went to the convenience store under my office building to grab a sandwich. I pushed open the glass door and nearly collided with someone.

Derek was in civilian clothes, a black jacket, a cup of coffee in his hand, standing right outside the store.

When he saw me, he smiled. “Small world.”

I stood in the doorway and didn’t move. A chill ran up my spine.

His smile was still warm, standard issue, textbook.

“I think my call yesterday came off the wrong way. I wanted to apologize in person.”

“How do you know where I work?”

He paused. Then said, “Mrs. Walsh mentioned it.”

My fingers tightened around my phone.

Mrs. Walsh knew where I worked, but she didn’t know I went to this convenience store at lunch.

How long had he been waiting here?

Wait, how did he even know I still worked in this building today?

“Mr. Hamilton,” my voice came out harder than usual. “I was very clear. This isn’t going to work. Showing up outside my office building is making me extremely uncomfortable.”

His smile flickered, brief, so brief it was almost invisible.

Then he smiled again, smaller this time, with a touch of apology.

“You’re right. That was thoughtless of me. I just felt that things get lost over the phone. I wanted to talk face to face. Since you’re not interested, I won’t push.”

He stepped back and cleared the way. “Sorry for bothering you.”

I said nothing and walked past him into the store.

I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, paid, and came back out. He was gone.

The corner of the street was empty. The smell of his coffee still hung in the air.

I stood there gripping my water bottle, heart racing, not from attraction, but from the dream.

There was a detail from the dream. Before I married him, he was exactly like this, warm, decent. He knew when to advance and when to retreat, like a delicate shell hiding something inside.