Dating For Decades (5 page)

“Who? Who’ve I done that with?”

They all begin rattling off names, including Monica who tends to stay quiet most meetings. They think they know me so well, but if they were involved with any of the men they mentioned, they would understand why I broke it off. I don’t
want
to get married. Marriages don’t last and also produce children, which I
also
do not want. I was subjected to my half-ass mother the first eighteen years of my life, and I’ll be damned if I put somebody else in the position to hate me as much as I hate her. And I don’t need a man to define who I am.

“You’re all wrong.” I point my finger at every single woman in the room. “Each and every one of you is
wrong
.” Whew. That felt good. “I don’t move on the minute a man starts to show commitment and trust. I simply don’t have time in my life for a full-time relationship and I don’t want anyone getting attached. I’ve hurt no one in my process.”

“Then why do you even run this group anymore?” Monica throws her hands in the air. She has plenty to say tonight, that’s for sure. She scratches her head, and curls her nose up. “Your goal for us seems to have shifted from let’s find out why we can’t commit and make a change, to let’s all sit around and chat and keep going as we are.” She rises from her chair and slides her hands into her back pockets. “I’m thinking about leaving the group.”

“What?” We all respond in unison as she turns and moves to the refreshment table. “You can’t ditch us.” I won’t have it. If there is one thing we
all
are committed to, it’s Dating for Decades.

Monica spins around and high-tails it back to her chair, plopping down and slamming her hands to her knees. “You never talk to us, Cassie. We share all of our ups and downs and you’re never short of an opinion. We always listen to you. You
never
lend an ear to us. We’re supposed to be a team here, a safe circle to discuss anything and support each other. We want to help you. I’m just …” She closes her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m just tired of this.”

“She’s right, Cassie.” Cheyenne leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “You’re not modeling the same behavior as us. To ask us to take your words into consideration and ignore ours is counter-productive.”

I couldn’t be any different from the women in this group. Our personalities are as different as night and day. Well, maybe they’re the oil and I’m the vinegar. We can mesh together for a short time, but eventually we separate and our differences are apparent. Cheyenne takes one psychology class at the local college and suddenly she’s an expert. Under normal circumstances, these women and I would never be in the same room together. Still, even if we’re not committed to any man in our lives, we’re committed to each other in a way. I should value the fact that they want to help me but I really don’t think I need any. I’m irritated at this jackass who came into my job with full intention to take over the first chance he’s given, I’m sure.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” At this point, I’ll agree with them. They may be onto something, but I’m not buying into it quite yet. I’m not some woman broken by my past, my nonexistent relationship with my mother affecting my ability to maintain a long-term connection with someone. I’m not a made-for-TV movie. None of us are, so we should stop pretending in the final twenty minutes of the program a miraculous change will occur. “Let’s move on. Does anyone else want to share?”

I want to push the focus off me, and if I’m lucky, Monica will forget her consideration to leave. I brought this group together, and I don’t want anything to tear it apart. Every Thursday these women are here for me, and me for them, no matter what.

A knock on the door interrupts Noelle before she begins to speak. A rare find around here, a man of medium height with unmanaged dark hair enters the room. His flannel shirt and ripped jeans turn me off right away. This isn’t a rodeo. “Can I help you find something?” Every once in a while a stray stumbles into our meeting room. We direct him to the AA meeting down the hall.

He looks down on a sheet of paper. “Is this the Dating for Decades group?”

All heads turn to him. “Yes,” I answer. “Are you looking for someone?” A man has never stepped foot into our territory on purpose.
 

“Actually, I want to join. How do I go about doing that?”

“You don’t, Sir. This group is for women only.” I turn back to the members and cross my legs, fold my hands, and set them on my lap.

“Sir?” He walks through the doorway toward me. “Please don’t call me Sir. I can’t be much older than you. Should I refer to you as Ma’am?”

I stiffen and my face flushes with anger. Ma’am is for spineless women wearing cardigans, their hair tossed into a bun as though they’ve given up completely on themselves. “Point taken. Seriously, though, we can’t help you. This is a women’s only group.”

“Sorry, ladies.” He scans the room and finds his way back to me. “Is there some sort of bylaw that states this, or do you make the rules and can change them should someone happen to want to join, like a man?”

Who the hell does this guy think he is? He comes in here trying to challenge me and make me look bad in front of my group. “Actually,
I
formed the group and
I
intended it to be for women.”

“Because men don’t need groups like this?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

Ugh. The group is focused on me, and waiting for a response. Am I a jerk for not letting him in? No, there aren’t any written bylaws or anything like that, but the online description for the group is clear: a support group for women over 35 unable to retain a long-term commitment and, thus, have been dating for decades.

“Look,” I lean in so no one else hears me. “I run this group, and I don’t think that the women would be comfortable with a man listening to their, um,
experiences
with men.”

“I’m a spectacular listener.”

“Good for you. Go find a men’s group.”

“This is the only one I found.”

He isn’t budging. If we had security, I would be on the phone with them already.

“Please leave.”

“Keith.”

“I didn’t ask your name.” I make eye contact with Monica and raise my eyebrows. She responds with a small smile. I can’t tell if she agrees with me or not.

“Well, I’m telling you. And your name is?”

My name is irrelevant.

“Cassie!” Luna shouts. “Her name is Cassie.”

I snap my head over at her and she lowers her eyes.
 

“I think you should take a vote,” Keith says.

“You don’t have a say. Please leave before I’m forced call the police.”

I’m not backing down from him. Men are not welcome in this group, whether he thinks they should be or not. I already dealt with one man moving in on my territory today and I’m not about to deal with another.

“Fine. But, we’re not done here.” He reaches in his back pocket and hands me a card. “This is my business card. Give me a call if you change your mind.”

He’s an electrician and appears to own his own company. “I won’t.”

He shrugs and leaves.

“Now, where were we?” I continue with the meeting, taking one last glance at Keith before the door shuts behind him.
 

Two men waving their manliness around within a week on my territory. This is my court, and I control the balls on it.

Chapter

Six

I’m so glad a new week is upon me. Last Thursday’s meeting didn’t go too well. Keith left me rattled, and I called the meeting to a close shortly after he left. A man has never tried to join, or even set foot in our meetings, in the three years I’ve been running the group. The letter from my mother certainly didn’t help either. Toss in Lucas, and I’m caught in a blender of emotion, each rotation cutting me deeper.

Work is a welcome distraction as long as it’s me in my office. There are some days in life when speaking to people is the last thing you want to do and today is one of those. With all that’s going on, my mind is boggled and every single thing is irritating me. I want to shake this feeling, and when I finally am about to, Lucas knocks on my door. I don’t want to deal with him today. Or ever. I invite him in, pushing my annoyances deep to the pit of my stomach, which is already overflowing with anger and confusion.

When he enters, I catch myself scanning him from head to toe. I dislike him so much, but I can’t recall the last time I met a man this pretty. When I do date, I go for smart, funny, and good-looking men in their mid-thirties to mid-forties. I’ve never looked twice at someone this young. But Lucas, well, he’s got that movie star quality, picture perfect for a magazine cover. My physical attraction seems to win out on my disgust for him on a daily basis.

“What can I help you with, Lucas?”

I offer him a seat, but he remains standing. His hands are resting in front of him, his dark dress pants and teal polo shirt accentuating his body. If I focus enough, I can make out the outline of his pecs.
No. Stop.
I can accept he’s attractive, but I need to acknowledge it and move on.
 

“I want to share a few of my ideas on the Pilot Project. I know Terrence put me as the lead on it, but I also know how much time you’ve already put into it. I want to run some of my ideas past you and get your input.”

I’m both shocked and flattered. I’ve been very vocal about the fact I don’t want this project taken away from me, but Terrence has been equally vocal that my opinion on the situation doesn’t matter. I doubt anything Lucas says will impress me, but I can at least listen to him. Lend an ear, as my group mates so blatantly said I never do.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Okay.” He sits down, sitting up straight and a smile spread across his face. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. You were trying to reorganize the data with this server migration. After reviewing this from a dozen different angles, I think we need to consider more server space. We can definitely reorganize the network file shares, but in the long run, we need more space.”

“Basically, you want to spend thousands of dollars?”
 

“Look at it like an investment. Either we do it now while we’re working on this cleanup, or you have to do this all over again in a year.”
 

I’m staring back at Lucas, certain my eyes are as big as his grin. “I can’t believe this. I can’t ask Terrence for more money. And where is this space coming from? We already have servers on site and another in Madison. Where do you anticipate getting more space?”

“I heard through the rumor mill that one of the building occupants is leaving after their lease is up. We can rent their space and put the new stuff there.”

“And who is your source?”

He smirks. “I overheard it in the janitor’s closet when I was eating lunch.”
 

Very funny. I’m sure he eats lunch at the fancy restaurants his uncle does, not shoved into a crawl space like a high school outcast. But, he may be onto something here. I don’t want to revisit this entire project in twelve months, or even in three years. This could be a great opportunity. “It will take an awful lot of time.”

“It’s been more than three months already, and you haven’t even started the migration. The whole process could have been done by now.”

Whoa, slow down, buddy. How’s he going to come in here and insult me? What gives him the right? Yes, maybe there is a
little
truth to his statement, but I’m stunned at the blatant disregard for my feelings. I’ve been with this company much longer than him, although
I’m
not related to my boss. Still, this gives him no right to come in and suggest I’ve done
nothing
these past months. Pages of notes fill my desk, and I’ve spent hours researching different consultants to contact to assist in the migration, not to mention the other responsibilities collecting on my desk. I can’t boast much of a social life, but I don’t live and breathe this job 24/7. Maybe 16/7.
 

“And now there’s a firm deadline.” He continues with his obvious statement in an attempt to make me feel even more incompetent. I won’t let him succeed.

I want him to stop talking. Just. Stop. Talking. How can I get him out of my office without physically shoving him? That’s what I want to do. I picture myself getting up from my desk, pushing him out the door, and slamming it in his face. “I’m well aware of the deadline, Lucas, thank you.”

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” I tap my fingers on my desk. “What do I think? I think it’s too time-consuming. I think it costs too much money. And I think this is a project I’ve devoted a lot of time to and plan to follow through. Why don’t you think about it some more and get back to me?”

He widens his eyes and curls his lips down. “Oh. Well, actually, I came to you for your opinion, but either way, I think I’m going to present this to Terrence.”

“Don’t do that!” I spit out. He can’t tell Terrence his idea yet.
I
should’ve come up with this.
I
should have determined that space would be an issue again in the future and thought of this. He needs to give him some bad ideas first, and then present this. If Lucas goes to him with this right out of the gate, I’ll look incompetent. He already thinks I am since he had to call Lucas in on this in the first place. “I mean, Terrence is so busy so without a solid plan locked down, I think your best option is to wait.”

“But I do have a firm plan. I don’t think I should sit on this. We wasted enough time on our asses.”

By “we,” he means me, and there’s no way to sugar coat that. Energy shoots up from my feet and through my body, and I’m ready to explode. The lava is bubbling at the top of my head and any second I’ll bubble over. Although, when Lucas stands there, looking at me, and I mean really at me, and not making his way up and down my profile as most men do, it’s hard to be upset with him. If he weren’t so young
and
related to my boss ....

“Cassie, I know it’s difficult having me come in here. I’m not trying to uproot you in any way. Terrence told me some of your ideas, and they’re great.”