The Single Life with Zola Patterson Part 2 - Danielle Allen Page 0,31

let your men cross paths.

“Well, give me a call later, so we can set up a date,” Jordan told me. “There’s a new psychological thriller coming to the indie theater over on Vine.” Smirking, he looked at Saint. “Take it easy, man.”

Jordan strolled off with a confidence that ordinarily would’ve been sexy, but in that moment, I didn’t know how to feel.

Taking a chance, I glanced up at Saint. Even with his thick beard, I could still see his clenched jaw.

“The Single Life with Zola Patterson,” he muttered, placing a hand on the small of my back.

I didn’t know what to say.

An apology didn’t seem appropriate and neither did an explanation.

Two days in a row? I internally groaned. Really?

He ushered me toward the door. Opening it for me, he allowed me to pass through first as we headed to his car. Without a word, he opened the car door and then walked around to his side.

“So, what’s up, Zola?” Saint asked as he pulled out of the parking spot.

I had a feeling I knew what he was talking about, but just in case, I needed clarity. “With what specifically?”

“You.”

“Is this about Jordan?”

“And the one last night.”

My stomach plummeted. This is why it is necessary to keep them separate.

I reached over and put my hand on his arm. “The one last night is in the past—”

“I’m not asking you to explain who they are,” he interrupted as he followed the GPS directions. “I’m more interested in knowing what you’re doing and what you want.”

“What I’m doing?” I repeated nervously.

“Yeah. I know I jokingly said you were juggling men, but now I’m just trying to figure out what’s up.”

I cleared my throat. “Well… I’m single so I’ve been dating and just enjoying getting to know people. I haven’t been juggling men. But I’ve been dating. Nothing serious.”

“And what do you want?”

“I like getting to know people and getting content for my work. But don’t get me wrong, at the end of all this, I’d want to find the real deal. Ultimately, I want connection,” I admitted.

“You want a connection without the relationship?”

“Relationships come with responsibilities, commitments, and obligations. Relationships come with compromises that I’m not willing…” My sentence faltered as my heart thumped in my chest. Taking a shaky breath, I pushed through it. “It’s not that I don’t want a relationship. It’s just that I don’t want to change my life.”

“Oh okay,” he replied, making a left turn.

I couldn’t read his expression. But I could tell he was mulling over what I’d said.

“My schedule is all over the place,” I explained further. “My time is mostly dedicated to my work. I’m sure you get that. You work all the time.”

As he pulled into my neighborhood, I bit my lip. A whole minute had gone by without him saying anything. When he parked in an available space, he looked over at me. “I do work a lot. I don’t see things the same as you, though. But I hear what you’re saying.”

The knot in my stomach got bigger. “How do you see it?”

He nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. But for me, if I feel a real connection with a woman, I’d accommodate for her in my life. For the right woman, sacrifices to my current situation won’t feel like sacrifices.”

Ripping my eyes from his, I gathered my stuff in my arms. I needed to shift the weight of the conversation from me. “Is that how you felt about your ex?”

“Not exactly.”

We were both quiet for a moment. With his engine off and the music powered down, the silence was a little too loud.

“Does that mean you didn’t have a connection with her?” I wondered.

“No, I wouldn’t have been with her for so long if I didn’t. But I don’t have time for drama and confusion, and she was both.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

“Ultimately, we wanted different things. So now I only deal with women who are real about who they are and what they want. With my schedule it doesn’t make sense to pursue something with someone who doesn’t want the same thing I want.”

I swallowed hard. “Would you like to come in?” I asked. “We could continue talking inside.”

“I want to.” Taking my hand in his, he brought it to his lips. “But I shouldn’t.”

My stomach sank with disappointment. “You shouldn’t?”

His eyes darkened with the intensity of words he didn’t say. “No, I shouldn’t.”

I felt the burn of tears in my throat, so I cleared it and opened