CHAPTER FOUR

MARCUS

I’m not normally so open with people. Especially not someone I just met. There’s something about Alice and the way she looks at me that makes the walls I’ve built around myself feel way too confining instead of comforting.

It’s crazy, but I want to let her in. No need to storm the castle, I’ll lower the drawbridge and put up the banners.

When I arrived at the restaurant, my mood was pessimistic at best. It nosedived even further when I entered and saw the way the tables were crammed into the large space, with no easy way for me to navigate safely between them.

Even worse, my date was already here, and our table was at the rear of the restaurant. I calmly requested a table in the front of the dining area and was told they couldn’t accommodate that.

After six years of being in a wheelchair, I’m very familiar with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA),and they were in clear violation of that in terms of accessibility. After the hostess denied my request for a second time, I had to start throwing the words fines and discrimination around. Funny how quickly the second chair was removed from a front table for me while the hostess went to inform my date of the change.

I was still pretty heated up when the hostess reappeared, but everything in me stilled when I gazed at the woman following close behind her with a slightly puzzled smile upon her face.

I went on this date with little expectations. Grandma Deborah knew the women I used to date, having spent holidays with a few of my, at the time, serious girlfriends. She even tried to teach Gloria, my girlfriend at the time of the accident, how to make apple butter.

Still, I was not expecting this vision of utter perfection. Especially not a woman this beautiful to have agreed to be set up with a guy like me. Many women hear the words disabled, wheelchair, and paraplegia and run in the opposite direction.

I don’t blame them.

Before, I never would have entertained the thought of dating anyone in a wheelchair. Even after I became disabled, I didn’t give it a lot of thought until my brother brought it up three years after the accident.

We were at my house, watching a football game, and having a few beers. Or rather, he was having a few. I’d limited myself to a single beer and even that was an indulgence. Alcohol tended to go right through me, and I didn’t feel like racing to the bathroom sporadically during the game when only the ensuite bathroom was set up for me, not the other two bathrooms. Not to mention with the meds I was on at the time, it was advised that I not drink.

I had opened up to my brother a bit about my concerns about dating since I finally felt ready to put myself out there again.

“You should try one of those dating sites,” he said before taking a long pull of his beer. “They have them for everyone. They must have them for people like you.”

“People like me?” I repeated, feeling my spirits plummet.

“Yeah, other wheelchair people. Or I guess, maybe limb difference?” Chase smirked. “You’re fine with a one-armed chick, right?” He winked. “Only need one hand to get the job done. Am I right?”

Gritting my teeth, I bit back a few choice words. Chase had always been a bit of an ass and now was no different. Guess I should be grateful some things didn’t change.

As much as I hated the way Chase brought up the subject of a dating site for people with disabilities, I had to admit I turned the idea over in my head many times over the weeks and months after that night.

I even went as far as checking out several before making a profile on one of them. In the past I considered myself to be a good catch. I was physically fit, had a stable career, a nice home, and a healthy bank account. Before the accident I had no issues getting dates, so I’d expected to be flooded with eager women wanting to date me when they saw my profile.

While I did get a few dates out of it, and one woman and I went out for a few months before we both agreed it wasn’t working, it wasn’t the flurry of attention I thought my profile would receive.

Also, I was introduced to a different side of things, devotees. The idea of someone only wanting me for my disability didn’t interest me in the slightest. If others were okay with that, good for them. That wasn’t me. I didn’t want the sight of my wheelchair, or the muscle spasms that would occasionally overtake my thin legs turning a woman on.

My experience with the devotee was ego crushing, and I deleted my dating profile. Since then, I’ve been on a handful of dates, but nothing like tonight.

Alice is not only gorgeous, but I’m enjoying our conversation as well. The fact that she isn’t treating me as anything less than a regular guy is refreshing and very welcome. While we talk, I can almost forget about the fact that I’m not the same man I was six years ago.

“I…” She pauses and presses her lips together for a moment before the rest of her words tumble out. “I’m glad I came too. This has been unexpectedly nice.” Her blue eyes sparkle as she leans forward. “When the hostess told me there had been a mistake, I thought I had been stood up.”

“My grandmother would have my hide if I stood you up,” I say with a chuckle, picturing Deborah coming after me with a slipper or spatula. Once Chase and I got into her chocolate and she swatted us both with the fly swatter.

Alice laughs. “Grammy would definitely disapprove if I did that too.” Her laughter stops, and she regards me for a moment. “I have to admit, I was tempted to leave when I sat down and recognized your voice.”

“Oh?” My brows raise as I rack my memory for when we could have met before.

I shake my head. Impossible. No way I would forget a woman like Alice. If I were single when we met, I would have definitely tried to get her number and taken her out. My old self would have had her in my bed that same day.

I wouldn’t mind having her there tonight.

That thought has all the power of a punch to the gut.

Sex hasn’t been high on my list of interests since the accident. For the first nine or so months afterwards, all I cared about was recovering and learning how the hell my life was going to go on when I could no longer walk. It was something I had just taken for granted, but the inability to do so any longer changed everything. Even simple things like taking a shower suddenly became more complex and time-consuming.

Sure, I was grateful when I found out that my dick still worked, and I’ve had sex a number of times since then and it was nice. It didn’t occupy my thoughts the way it used to, though. Probably because sex wasn’t as easy, and I didn’t have women interested in me like before, so I didn’t have all that many opportunities for sex.

From time to time, I masturbated, but it wasn’t even out of any great need. It was more to make sure the damn thing still worked.

But here I am, barely an hour into a first date, thinking of how I’d love to have Alice’s tall and shapely body over mine. Her eyes closed and that long, shiny blonde hair trailing down her back and over her breasts as she rides me.

That abruptly snaps me back to reality, and a bit of anger fills me. Gone are the days when I could pick up a woman and fuck her against a wall or put her in any position. Now the woman had to be the one in charge. It’s a crazy thing to miss sex in the missionary position. But I did.

“Yes, I heard you all the way in the back of the restaurant. I couldn’t make out the words, but you sounded pissed.”

“I was pissed,” I snap and immediately regret it when Alice’s playful smile drops, and the teasing glint leaves her eyes.

Heaving a sigh, I gesture around at the other tables, all occupied, and then push away from ours and motion to my wheelchair. “Maneuvering around all these other diners would have been nearly impossible. It’s like a maze in here and all anyone needs is me running over their purses or feet or bumping into a server carrying a tray full of steaming hot food or icy drinks. There simply wasn’t room for me to safely get to the table they assigned for us.”

Alice nods even as a tiny wrinkle forms between her shapely, light brown brows. “Makes sense. Did you have to yell about it?”

“Apparently it didn’t make sense to the hostess, who told me they couldn’t accommodate my request.”

Her blue eyes widen as her lips part. “That’s discrimination.”

I wheel back to my place at the table. “It is indeed, and that’s when I raised my voice.” I scrub a hand over my face and shoot her a look. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Biting down on her plump pink lower lip, she tilts her head and regards me silently for several long seconds.

My heart jumps into my throat and it’s difficult to breathe. This is the part where Alice tells me thanks for the meal and leaves. And it would all be my own fault.

“I would have done the same thing in your position.” She gives me a tiny smile. “If I would have known you were in a wheelchair, I would have requested a different table when the hostess took me to the other one.”

The server smoothly comes by and asks if we are interested in dessert and Alice declines. We sit in silence while waiting for the bill, which she tries to split, and I hand the server my card over Alice’s protests. All during it in the back of my head, her words loop around and around.

“If I would have known you were in a wheelchair.”

She didn’t know.

My stomach churns and I feel foolish for hoping that she knew and came on this date with that knowledge. For thinking that she wanted to meet me despite it.

I should have known better. A woman as sweet, gorgeous, and intelligent as Alice doesn’t need to go on dates with guys like me. She can have her pick of any able-bodied man.

Keeping up the pretense of this being a date that went well, I accompany her to her vehicle, not surprised to see her ride is a Porsche. Despite our age difference, she’s no doubt making close to what I do. She’s a successful career woman, a woman that truly has it all.

We exchange numbers and the next day I call and leave a message thanking her for a nice evening. Despite knowing it’s a lost cause, I also reiterate my desire to see her again. It’s pathetic how much I still want a chance with her.

I’m not surprised when she doesn’t call me back. Though I won’t admit how much it hurts.