The third date with Susan was meant to be the charm. We had met on Tinder.
That night, I chose a modest Italian restaurant situated away from the regular hustle.
Susan arrived in a navy dress that suited her shape well. Her hair flowed over her shoulders. She smiled, and I thought, Wow, this could be something.
But then I heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, hey, Rob! Fancy seeing you here!”
Linda from accounting is clearly visible at the entryway. The real issue was three children clinging to her, each armed with loud, sticky energy.
Susan’s puzzled gaze shifted between Linda and me. “Friend of yours?” she inquired, her tone hesitant.
“Colleague,” I corrected, a forced smile on my face as Linda sat her children in chairs at our table.
Linda has always been an enigma. She is a single mother of three children, aged two, eight, and twelve, the result of two unsuccessful relationships. She is attractive and terrifying.
But tonight, as she slid into the booth beside me with her children, her aura wasn’t imposing. It was suffocating.
“Linda, what are you doing here?” I stammered, my voice low. My gaze darted to Susan, whose astonishment had swiftly turned into annoyance.
“You promised to watch the kids tonight, and here you are… having dinner with her?” She nodded at Susan as if she were an unwelcome guest.
“I mean, we’re a family.” She gestured to her children, who were joyfully consuming the breadbasket. “The kids were so excited to see you tonight!”
“Linda, I never promised—”
Linda shrugged, a smug grin forming on her face. “I didn’t mean to ruin your date, Susan. But you should know the kind of man you’re seeing. He’s been leading me — and the kids — on for months.”
Susan grabbed her purse. She spun on her heels and stormed away.
I turned to Linda, my words scarcely restrained. “What are you doing? You just ruined my date!”
Instead, she reclined back in her chair, her child contently chewing on a breadstick. “You should thank me.”
Linda carefully took out her phone and scrolled with precise accuracy. “For saving you.”
She flipped the phone around and held up a photograph. “Recognize this?”
I squinted at the screen. Although the shot was fuzzy, the face was clear. “That’s… Susan. Why are you showing me this?”
“This is a mugshot,” Linda explained, focusing in on the photo.
“My brother’s a cop. Last night, I stopped by the station to drop off some paperwork for him. While I was there, I noticed her face on the bulletin board. She’s wanted for fraud.”
“She’s been conning men. Gets into relationships with them, gains their trust, and then scams them out of thousands. I didn’t put two and two together until I saw the picture you posted on Instagram before your date tonight. So, I called my brother, and — well, here we are. She’s probably being arrested as we speak.”
For a moment, I was unable to speak. My fury drained away, to be replaced by bewilderment, confusion, or perhaps even thankfulness.
My emotions swirled as I glanced at her. If she was telling the truth, perhaps she could have rescued me from calamity. But how had she done it? I was unsure if I could forgive that.
For a little while, I was unable to look at Linda. My thoughts were a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, including thankfulness, humiliation, and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
Linda smirked and leaned back in her chair. “You know, Rob, you should thank me right about now.”
I shook my head, half amused and half angry. “You’re unbelievable.”
As I looked at her, fatigued yet dazzling, her children plainly hanging on her every word, I felt something change. Linda wasn’t just the courageous, maddening woman who had forced her way into my evening; she was more. She had saved me tonight, but she had also shown me something I had been too blind to see.
“Linda,” I began, my voice steadier than I expected, “can I buy you dinner? All of you.”
Her oldest grinned. “I vote pizza!”
“Alright, Rob. But only if you’re buying dessert, too.”
“Deal,” I said, grinning.
Linda and I are still together now, two years later. I adopted her children, and they remind me every day what it is to love and be loved.
