Confessions of a Serial Dater Read Online Free Page B

dinner,” he tells me, and I nearly stumble as he leads me back across the room. But not because of my shoes.
    “What?”
    “Whenever I’m in his company, I just keep filling my mouth with whatever is handy so that I don’t have to actually talk to him.”
    “Well, it seemed like the best thing to do.”
    “I know—great minds think alike. In another reality we’re probably soul mates,” he says, winking.
    “You really need to work on the cheese angle of your conversations,” I laugh, taking it as a joke, because it must be a joke, mustn’t it?
    We are now at the edge of the dance floor. For some strange reason, I don’t want to introduce him to Jonathan. And I don’t want to think about soul mates, either. Better to break things off now. Not that there’s anything to break off, of course.
    “Well, thank you for rescuing me,” I say, looking down at my too-tight shoes, and my feet begin to throb again. Oddly, I’d forgotten about them hurting just for a few minutes. “I think it would be better if…,” I break off, indicating Jonathan with my head.
    “I understand,” he says, with a half smile. “I don’t want to be the cause of any unintentional disharmony. It was my pleasure. And thank you for not choking to death on the profiterole. It was the highlight of my evening, apart from dancing to Bing.”
    I don’t want this conversation to end, which is also ridiculous.
    “Well, good-bye then,” I say, holding out my hand. “And thank you.”
    “My pleasure. Try not to expire over the cheese course,” he says, briefly taking my hand. “Chew well.”
     
    “Who was that?” Jonathan asks by way of greeting as I slide into my seat.
    “Oh, just some bloke,” I say, hoping that my face is not as flushed as it feels.
    “Only I was looking all over the place for you. I thought you were still in the foyer. I missed you.”
    How could he have missed me? He was too busy networking to even sit with me in the foyer. I squash this thought. Because it’s actually quite nice that he’s jealous. It shows he cares.
    “I don’t even know his name,” I say evenly, because I’ve had enough disharmony today to last for a year. “He’s just someone who happened to be passing when I needed to be saved from dancing with Sidney.”
    “Well, I don’t like the look of him,” Jonathan says, still looking a bit petulant. “And would it hurt you to have one dance with my boss? It is Christmas, after all. Cynthia danced with him.”
    Lucky Cynthia.
    “Don’t you remember the Halloween Ball and the false nose incident?” I ask. I’m a little hurt, because Jonathan could be a bit more understanding. I know he needs to focus on this promotion, but how can he bear the thought of his boss’s hands wandering all over his girlfriend?
    “Yes, yes,” he says, taking my hand and smiling. “That was très quick thinking of you,” he adds. Whew. For a moment there I thought he was really going to take Sidney’s side. “It has to be said, you can be un peu clumsy on your feet—younearly took out Sidney’s eye with that false nose, and we don’t want any more accidents.”
    That wasn’t quite the response I hoped for. But before I can say something, Graham and Cynthia return from the dance floor to take their places at the table, and Jonathan, Graham and the company’s accountant commence their usual one-upmanship chat about how their respective departments are doing really well. An “I’m the man” exercise to prove their superiority over each other.
    And when Cynthia strikes up a conversation with the company accountant’s wife about their new yacht, or château, or something equally fascinating, I am still smarting from Jonathan’s remarks and excuse myself in favor of the ladies’ room.
    As I get to my feet I do not glance over to Dr. Love’s table to see if he is there. Or, indeed, to see if he is watching me. I wonder how much longer we have to stay for decency’s sake before we can