Chapter 5

I took my time getting ready for the date and wore my little black dress and some sensible shoes suitable for dancing. Gareth took me to a nice small Italian restaurant with an intimate atmosphere with soft violin music playing in the background. The food was divine, and the company was enjoyable as we chatted about bits of nothing through the night.

Dancing was something else. I felt so out of place not knowing the dance steps, but Gareth was as good as his word and taught me some basic steps. He got a tap on the shoulder, and an older, more experienced guy cut in, who whirled me around the room. The last dance started, and I was back with Gareth. It was a slow waltz, allowing me to place my head on his shoulder. He held me tight as we slowly moved around the dance floor. I felt comfortable and relaxed while he turned me in all directions, following his lead.

After the last dance had finished, Gareth held my hand at arm’s length, bowed, held my hand, raised it to his lips and gently kissed the back. I noticed all the men in the room did that to their dance partners. What a beautiful way to finish the evening, I thought.

Gareth had been the perfect gentleman. No groping; he didn’t push his crotch into mine, and no awkward or embarrassing moments if he tried to kiss me, which he didn’t. It was a nice change to be treated with respect. I knew I would be happy to have another date with him if he asked.

He drove me home at around 11pm, and I was unsure if I should ask him to come in and have a coffee, knowing what that could lead to. He pulled up in my drive and said, “Thank you for a great night. I was hoping we could go out again on Friday if you have nothing planned.”

“Thank you. I would love that.”

I was pleasantly surprised when he got out, came to my side of the car, opened the door and offered me his hand. I accepted, and he walked me to my door, where he kissed my cheek and said, “See you at seven on Friday.” Walking back to his car, he turned and gave me a goodnight wave before he drove off.

The following day was the first day of my four-day break, and I went shopping. When I returned home, I saw a bunch of long-stemmed red roses by my front door. How sweet of Gareth, I thought. But when I opened the card, I was shocked. It read. “Tara, I’m so, so, sorry. Please forgive me and take me back. I love you. Morgan.”

The roses hit the bin. What a shithead. Life is not so good with the new girl, uh? I thought. Well fuck you, you arsehole. There was no way I was taking Morgan back.