Love is Better in the Dark

CHAPTER 2

It had been almost a week since the conversation between Eleanor and Ava about the lights-off arrangement, and the weight of that promise was beginning to crush Ava’s usual optimism. Eleanor had been very precise about what she wanted—kind, genuine, outside their social circle, willing to show up without questions. Simple requirements that were proving impossibly difficult to fulfill.

Ava had been doing everything in her power to find the right guy. She’d searched day and night, scrolling through her phone in her tiny apartment until her eyes burned, scanning faces in the office cafeteria, studying strangers at her favorite coffee spot on Third Avenue. She’d even considered asking her dentist’s receptionist if she knew anyone, which was when she realized she might be losing her mind. Every man she considered had some fatal flaw—too connected to their world, too polished, too something. Eleanor would see through them in seconds, even in the dark.

By Tuesday, Ava was drained and Eleanor was getting impatient. The texts had started coming in increasing frequency: “Any updates?” “Ava?” “Should I assume this isn’t happening?” Each message felt like a countdown to her firing.

At this point, Ava was actively avoiding Eleanor. She’d taken the stairs to skip the elevator ride they usually shared. She’d eaten lunch at her desk instead of joining Eleanor for their usual salad-and-gossip session. She couldn’t face another conversation where she had to admit she’d failed at something Eleanor was counting on her for. She didn’t want to get scolded or yelled at, though if she was honest with herself, Eleanor rarely yelled. The disappointment would be worse.

On Tuesday evening, after a whole day of successful avoidance and unsuccessful searching, Ava was walking home through the streets of downtown, her shoulders hunched against the early autumn chill. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, just moving on autopilot toward her apartment and another night of fruitless scrolling, when something made her stop.

She’d walked past this particular Mexican restaurant a hundred times—Casa de Luz, with its warm amber lighting and floor-to-ceiling transparent windows that turned the dining room into a stage for the street. Usually she kept walking. Tonight, something pulled her attention inside.

There was a young man sitting alone at a table near the window. Maybe mid-thirties, though it was hard to tell from this angle. What caught her attention wasn’t his appearance at first, but the way he was interacting with the waiter—leaning back in his chair, smiling genuinely, saying something that made the waiter laugh and clasp his shoulder like they were old friends. There was an ease to him, a warmth that seemed to radiate even through the glass.

Then she really looked at him.

He was like something carved by an artist who understood exactly what women wanted to look at. Strong jaw, dark hair that was slightly too long and fell across his forehead in a way that suggested he’d forgotten to get it cut rather than styled it that way on purpose. Even sitting down, she could tell he was tall—maybe six-foot-one. Broad shoulders filled out a simple black henley. He had the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers, all sharp angles and perfect symmetry, except there was something approachable about it. He looked like a Greek god who’d decided to take a vacation as a regular person.

Without thinking twice, Ava pushed through the restaurant’s door.

The warmth hit her immediately, along with the smell of cilantro and lime and something sizzling on a grill. She walked straight to his table, her heart hammering, and sat down in the empty chair across from him without asking permission.

He looked up from his phone, startled. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Ava knew she was looking at him very lustfully, her eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the way his forearms flexed as he set down his phone. She could tell she was making him uncomfortable—his shoulders tensed, his expression shifted from surprise to concern, and after about two minutes of this silent staring contest, he pushed back his chair like he was about to bolt.

“Can you wait, please?” The words tumbled out of Ava’s mouth in a rush.

He didn’t want to. That much was obvious from the way he gripped the edge of the table, ready to launch himself toward the door. But something in her voice—desperation, maybe, or sincerity—made him pause. Without a second thought, he sat back down slowly, gave her a deeply confused look, and said, “Go on.”

Now that she had his attention, Ava felt suddenly shy. This had seemed like a brilliant idea from outside on the sidewalk, but now, sitting across from this stranger who was looking at her like she might be dangerous, she wasn’t sure how to start.

“Can you go on a blind date with my boss?” she blurted out.

He laughed. Not the mocking kind of laughter, but something caught between confusion and genuine amusement, like he’d just heard the setup to a joke and was waiting for the punchline. Still holding on to that same confused expression, he said, “I’m a total stranger. You don’t know me and you didn’t even ask if I was married. And now this crazy offer?”

Ava’s confidence returned. This was what she was good at—convincing people, reading situations, making impossible things seem reasonable. “First of all, I know you’re not married. You don’t have a ring on your finger. Secondly, we’re having a conversation, so you’re not a stranger anymore according to my books. And thirdly, the offer may most likely not lead to marriage, but she is very fun to be around, nice, elegant and beautiful.”

He gave her a sharp look that was equal parts skeptical and intrigued. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t need to,” Ava replied, leaning forward. “You just have to agree with the offer. Look at it this way—it’s like a friend you never get to see their face. You’re just going to talk in the darkness.” This time her voice had a new confident edge, like she was describing something completely normal instead of completely insane.

He started to laugh again, harder this time, his head falling back slightly. A couple at a nearby table glanced over, smiling at whatever joy they assumed he’d found. When he finally got control of himself, he leaned forward, his eyes dancing. “So this blind date will be in the dark? Like a confession where I don’t see the priest?”

Ava thought about it in her head for a while. That wasn’t a bad comparison actually. “Do something out of the box? And besides, it’s going to be fun. The confusion thing in your head—it’s exactly what will happen. You don’t see her, she doesn’t see you.”

He turned his head left to right, processing this information, clearly unsure whether to agree or not. His expression went through several shifts—doubt, curiosity, amusement, something that might have been loneliness. After about thirty seconds of visible internal debate, he landed on something unrecognizable. “How long do I have to do this for?”

“For as long as you want to,” Ava responded, though she was unsure even as she said it. “It’s not for a fixed period of time. When you’re tired you can stop, but you have to try—”

“I didn’t even agree to do it,” he cut her off immediately, though there was no heat in his voice. “Calm down.”

He knew from the way Ava was sounding that she was overselling this, trying too hard to convince him. She kept saying things like, “Just have three talks in the dark. You have nothing to lose. Just think about it, but you have to think seriously.”

“Can I have a couple days to think about it?” he asked.

“NO.” The word came out fast and sharp, and she watched him actually flinch, his eyes widening.

For the next twenty minutes, they talked through the details of the arrangement. Ava explained the logistics—the location, the setup, the absolute darkness, the emphasis on conversation over everything else. He asked practical questions: Would there be anyone else there? How would he know if she was real and not some elaborate prank? What if they hated each other? What if it was awkward?

Ava answered each question as best she could, making up rules as she went along. Finally, with his own terms and conditions added—he could leave whenever he wanted, no guilt; after three meetings if it wasn’t working they’d both walk away; and Ava had to promise this wasn’t some weird human trafficking situation—he agreed.

“When is the date?” he asked, still looking like he couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Ava, sharp and excited, said, “Now, if you want.”

He was clearly thinking about his next move, whether to run or remain. “Now?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly on the word.

Ava was already getting ahead of herself. “Yes. I mean, she’s probably still at the office, but I can call her, set it up—”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not now. I need… I need at least a day to process whatever this is.”

They eventually agreed on tomorrow evening at ten p.m. for the date. Ava pulled out her phone and created a new contact, hovering her fingers over the name field. “What should I save you as?”

He smiled for the first time since she’d sat down, a real smile that transformed his entire face. “Surprise me.”

She typed in “Greek God” and showed him. He laughed and shook his head, but didn’t object. She collected his number, confirmed the time once more, and stood to leave.

“You’re not going to tell me her name?” he called after her.

“That’s the whole point,” Ava said over her shoulder, already halfway to the door.