Love is Better in the Dark

CHAPTER 4

The darkness was absolute. Not dim, not shadowy—complete and total darkness that swallowed every particle of light. Eleanor couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. For a moment, panic clawed at her throat. This was insane. She should leave. She should—

“Hello?” A male voice, coming from somewhere in the darkness. Deep, a little uncertain. “Is someone there?”

Eleanor’s mouth went dry. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, sealing them both into this strange, dark space.

“Yes,” she managed. “I’m here.”

“So I didn’t just agree to sit alone in a dark room for no reason,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a relief.”

Eleanor felt her way forward until her shin bumped against something—a chair. She sat down carefully, grateful for something solid beneath her. “You can leave whenever you want. Ava told you that, right?”

“She did. Along with about a hundred other disclaimers. Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?”

“Are you?”

“I asked first.”

Despite herself, Eleanor smiled in the darkness. “No. I’m not a serial killer. Just someone who wanted to try something different.”

“Different is one word for it.” There was a pause, then: “So how does this work? Do we just… talk?”

“I think so. Yes. We talk.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Everything. What did you have for dinner?”

He laughed, and it was a good laugh, warm and genuine. “Mexican food. There was this woman who sat down at my table and made me the strangest offer I’ve ever received, and I was so thrown off I forgot to eat half my food.”

Eleanor felt her shoulders relax slightly. “Was she very pushy?”

“Very. But in a sweet way. Like a small, determined tornado.” Another pause. “What about you? What did you have for dinner?”

“I didn’t. I was too nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” He sounded surprised. “Why?”

“Because this is strange and new and I don’t know what I’m doing,” Eleanor admitted. “Because I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine and we’re sitting in complete darkness like we’re in some kind of strange experiment.”

“We are in a strange experiment,” he pointed out. “That’s exactly what this is.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Eleanor took a breath. “Should we introduce ourselves? Or is that against the rules?”

“I don’t know what the rules are. Do you?”

“No. I think we’re making them up as we go.”

There was a long silence. Eleanor counted her heartbeats in the darkness, wondering if he was about to leave, if this whole thing had been a terrible mistake.

Then he spoke again. “I’m not going to tell you my name. Not yet, anyway. Is that okay?”

Relief flooded through her. “Yes. That’s okay. I wasn’t going to tell you mine either.”

“Then we’re even.” She heard him shift in his chair. “So if we’re not exchanging names, what do we talk about? What do you do for work?”

“No,” Eleanor said quickly, more sharply than she intended. “No work talk. That’s off limits.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. When he spoke again, his voice had an edge. “Okay. Family?”

“Also off limits.”

“Friends?”

“Depends on the context.”

“Where you live?”

“General area only.”

The silence this time was different—tense, frustrated. “So what exactly am I allowed to know about you?” His voice had gone cold. “Because right now it feels like I’m talking to a ghost. You won’t tell me your name, your job, where you live, anything about your actual life. What’s even the point of this?”

Eleanor felt anger flash through her chest. Her instinct was to yell, to tell him he didn’t understand, to defend herself against his judgment. But she forced herself to pause, to breathe, to think about why she was really here.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m being unfair.”

“I—what?”

“You’re right. I’m putting up all these walls and expecting you to just accept it without explanation. That’s not fair to you.” Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself in the darkness. “Can I tell you why?”

“Please.”

“I have a very public life. My name means something to people, and not always good things. When people meet me, they meet all of that first—the history, the expectations, the assumptions. They never just meet me.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I wanted this to be different. I wanted someone to know me without all of that weight. Does that make sense?”

The silence stretched out, but it was different now. Softer. When he spoke again, the anger was gone. “It makes sense. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No, you should have. You should push back when something doesn’t feel right.” Eleanor found herself smiling again. “Actually, I like that you did. Most people don’t.”

“Most people are probably intimidated by you.”

“How would you know? You can’t even see me.”

“I can hear it in your voice. The way you talk. You’re used to being in charge. Used to people agreeing with you.” He paused. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Eleanor admitted. “You’re not wrong.”

“So tell me something real. Not your name, not your job. Just something true about you that has nothing to do with your public life.”

Eleanor thought for a long moment. In the darkness, it was easier to be honest. “I’m lonely. I’m surrounded by people all the time, but I’m lonely. And I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”

She heard him exhale slowly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“What about you? Tell me something true.”

“I’m scared,” he said simply. “I’m sitting in the dark talking to a stranger who won’t tell me her name, and part of me thinks this is the most exciting thing I’ve done in years. And that scares me because I don’t know what it means.”

The honesty in his voice made Eleanor’s chest tighten. Here was someone willing to be vulnerable with her, to admit fear and uncertainty without trying to hide behind bravado or charm. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

“I’m scared too,” she admitted. “But I think that might be okay.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think it might be.”