I Dreamed the Perfect Blind Date Was Lying To Me Chapter 06

I took a deep breath and went back to the office.

During the afternoon meeting, I was distracted.

My fingers kept writing the same two words in my notebook: Leo. Leo.

A name from a dream.

If I could verify whether that name was real or not, everything would have an answer.

But how?

I couldn’t just walk up to him and ask, “Do you have a son named Leo?”

That was insane.

After the meeting, I sat at my desk staring at my screen. My coworker Jenna came over with her iced tea and knocked on my desk.

“What’s wrong? Breakup?”

“No. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

I hesitated.

“Do you believe in dreams that are… really clear? So clear they feel like they actually happened?”

Jenna chewed on her straw for a moment.

“You mean like a premonition dream?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you have one?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

I shook my head and didn’t answer.

Jenna didn’t push. She patted my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Dreams are usually the opposite of reality.”

The opposite. I hoped so.

Three quiet days. Derek didn’t reappear. No calls. No messages.

I thought the whole thing was over.

On the fourth day, my mom called again.

This time, she wasn’t just pushing. Her voice carried something close to desperation.

“Emily, please. Give him one more chance.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish,” she cut me off. “Mrs. Walsh came by today, in person.”

“She said Derek talked to her and admitted that showing up at your office was a mistake. He regrets it.”

“He asked her to tell you that if you’re willing to see him one more time, he’ll wait for you at Maple Ridge Coffeehouse. If you don’t show, he’ll leave and never bother you again.”

I closed my eyes.

“Just one last time,” my mom said. “Go see him. If it’s still no, I’ll never bring it up again.”

I had known my mom for thirty-two years. When she said “I’ll never bring it up again,” she had said it at least five hundred times.

But this time, I heard something else in her voice, fatigue. She was tired.

I was tired too, not because of blind dating, but because every time I said no, I had to face the disappointment in her voice, my dad’s silent sighs, and Mrs. Walsh’s awkward attempts to smooth things over.

And all the relatives whispering, “Her standards are just too high.”

Those things piled up, heavier than overtime.

I thought for a long time.

“Fine. I’ll see him. One last time.”

My mom exhaled like someone being pulled from deep water.

I hung up and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

I agreed to meet him, not because I gave in, but because I needed a chance to confirm something, whether that dream was real.

I needed to hear the answer from him.

Saturday at three in the afternoon, I walked into Maple Ridge Coffeehouse.

He was already there, sitting by the window. A coffee and a sparkling water sat in front of him.

The sparkling water was probably for me.

I noticed it when I sat down. A thought flickered through my mind.

How did he know I didn’t drink coffee? Did Mrs. Walsh tell him? Or had he noticed when I bought juice at the convenience store the first time?

That level of observation was detailed enough to make my skin prickle.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. His voice was still pleasant and steady.

I sat down and didn’t touch the sparkling water.

“You said this was the last time. I’m here.”

He nodded. “The other day was out of line. I made you uncomfortable. If I made you feel unsafe, I’m sorry.”

The apology was precise, the attitude sincere, the words carefully chosen.

I looked at him. His eyes were clean. His expression carried just the right amount of regret.

If I hadn’t had that dream, I probably would have been moved.

“Apology accepted,” I said. Then I picked up the sparkling water and took a sip.

He smiled, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I’ve been thinking. Maybe you said no because we don’t know each other well. If you’re open to it, we could start as friends. No rush.”

I set the glass down, looked into his eyes, and spoke. “Mr. Hamilton, I have a question.”

“You can call me Derek.”

“Mr. Hamilton,” I repeated. “You said you were married before.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you have any children?”