Late Lunch With Lauren Is a Family Affair

Starting over is not always easy

She breezed into the Bistro and quickly scanned the tables.

He was seated at a table for two along the far wall, right where she expected. She was pleasantly surprised that he was not the kind of handsome that drew flocks of fawning women. He possessed a classic, non-imposing look with a proper sprinkling of grey around his temples. The crow’s feet flanking both eyes told spoke of his smile, yet his forehead showed deep lines from his recent pain.

He had buried his wife only months prior after a lengthy illness. Lauren’s curiosity was piqued the second his profile appeared in her notifications. She had the inside track on “Mates without Dates,” or MWD, for widows and widowers and always had the first right of refusal.

This man seemed ideal on paper.

The throaty, breathless voice oozed out of her. “You must be David. I’m Lauren, of course. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

She exuded the confidence of a well-kempt woman who appeared to be in her 40s, though she was easily 10-plus years beyond that. She took pride in staying fit and appreciated the fine details in her attire.

Lauren was unaffected by any admiring glances around her.

He stood and pulled out her chair. “Well, Lauren, let me just say it’s certainly my pleasure. Without seeming too forward, you are even more beautiful than your pictures. I didn’t think that could be possible.” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, semi-frozen but curious.

His hands were large, warm, and smooth. He gently raised her hand to his lips and simply gave it a fleeting airy kiss, as a southern gentleman would. He had promoted his life of ease on his profile. Manual labor was not his background. The absence of callouses verified his story.

So too did his custom suit jacket, which was well-fitted to his once athletic frame. Though years had elapsed while his focus shifted from recreational sports to caring for his ailing wife, it was evident that he used to be an athlete of sorts.

His pressed buttoned-down shirt and cuff links, coupled with his reception of her, screamed old-world values. Old money, too.

Lauren was not displeased at the direction this was going.

David, in turn, had noticed her heart pendant dangling from the thin gold chain. It teased the top of her cleavage and would slip under her appropriate and tasteful plunging neckline as she talked. She carefully chose a turquoise dress that hugged her in all the right places.

Aside from the irony of it being his favorite color, he was drawn to her well-appointed curves.

An embarrassment washed through him as his body betrayed his faithful mindset for 35 years.

David contemplated what he was doing here. He thought of his wife and her struggles. Was it too soon to think he could start again?

His grief counselor, Linda, had recommended that he try to get back into the world of the living. Quite conservative and ever cautious, David had said he wasn’t sure how to even start. It was in her office that he had shoved his wedding band deep into his pocket. His hand felt naked. She had assured him it was never easy for anyone. If he could leave it off a little longer each day, it would help him transition through his grief.

She had scribbled down a match-making number and handed it to him as he left. Unblinking, her look of reassurance reinforced what she had told him. Linda endorsed it as the safest and most reliable of all the dating companies for people that have lost a loved one. He trusted her judgment that it was a discreet service.

“It was time,” she’d said.

Distracted and momentarily lost in his thoughts, Lauren’s laughter bubbled up and snapped him back to the present. My God, he thought, she is breezy. It was an odd choice, but it fit her in every sense of the word. Breezy. He was smitten. She was light, had a soft yellow aura, and possessed a whimsy.

There was an openness about Lauren. Her easy conversation was natural. So real. The awkwardness of this first date dissolved quickly.

David asked about this Bistro off the beaten path and why she chose it. He was intrigued by her explanation that she preferred low-key, quaint places. It helped that she lived a few short blocks away, and this place was her brother’s little venture.

“A girl can’t be too safe these days. My brother, Mike, is like my hidden security. I can’t believe I just confessed that to you!” Her eyes twinkled with the warmth of a long-time friend. She waved her brother over for a quick introduction. He presented them with a second bottle of the woodsy, smooth pinot noir. “It’s so nice to see my sister enjoying herself again. It has been too long. Frankly, she must like you. She’s a tough sell, you know.”

David hadn’t been this relaxed since he could remember. He couldn’t have scripted a better revisit to the dating world if he tried. The schoolboy in him couldn’t wait to share his thanks and good fortune with his counselor.

Each time Lauren emphasized a point, her hand lingered a little longer atop his. He didn’t mind.

He did not mind at all.

The warmth from the wine and the chemistry blanketed them both in comfort. They looked at their empty glasses. “We did not drink two bottles, did we? You drank more than me,” he teased. “There seems to be more than one of you, twins, triplets? Some fresh air may be in order.”

Embarrassment at his giddiness did not follow.

When she took his hand and asked him to walk with her to her place, he no longer questioned if he was ready.

A sly smile crept across Mike’s face as the heavy wood doors of his Bistro slowly closed behind them.

Their kisses were long, deep, and at times tear-inducing. He was blessed. Both moved slowly as they investigated the new territory of the delicious and unexpected.

She broke the rhythmic cadence with a low laugh about breathing and offered him a drink. He anxiously awaited her return and felt young again, on fire with energy, at the prospects unfolding before him. She was intoxicating.

“Cheers!” Her velvety whisper matched her half-closed eyes as she cozied back into her spot within inches of him. They clinked glasses without breaking eye contact. The magnetic pull was greater than the feeble attempts at decorum. Desire consumed him.

His breath slowed. His weight seemed to triple as he slumped half on her lap, and half on the couch. She peeled herself ever so gently from underneath.

She loosened his shirt button by button.

The diamond cuff links and the Rolex watch slid off easily and were put to the side. He moaned ever so slightly when she removed his shoes, belt, and wallet.

She stood back and marveled that he may be the last gentleman on earth. Lauren had come to view them as a rarity and hard to come by. Especially the vulnerable ones.

The draw for her was always in a man’s vulnerability.

She sat in the corner perched in her favorite overstuffed chair and watched for a moment while he slept.

He was so peaceful.

She dug into her purse and reached for her phone.

“Hey, Mike, it’s time. Come do your thing.”

A few days later, her sister Linda was incessantly texting her. The rapid blinking of messages from MWD needed a response. Sometimes Lauren hated doing business with family. She saw the alert that the next candidates, prospects numbers 12 and 13, had neared the end of their counseling needs and were ripe and ready.

Just shy of 10 days later, she breezed into the Bistro and quickly scanned the tables. He was seated at a table for two along the far wall, right where she expected.

The throaty, breathless voice oozed out of her. “You must be Edward. I’m Lauren, of course. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

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