“There’s never any rush,” Gerri said. “I merely observed the way you were with that man at the bar was like you had done it a thousand times. You were exhausted by the exchange.”
Dana shot down a large gulp of her drink. It was cozy and strong, making her squint her eyes as it traveled down her gullet.
“I think a lot of women feel that way, don’t you?” Dana asked.
Gerri continued smiling. It should have made Dana feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t. The woman had seen things Dana could have never imagined.
“I know they do, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to find someone worthy, right?”
Dana felt like she was being psychoanalyzed, which she normally would have snubbed off, but with Gerri, it was different.
Usually, it had been men trying to dissect her obsession with her music and her career versus the desire to find a mate.
She had actively fought that her entire life because, frankly, no one ever asked a man why he chose an illustrious career over getting married.
But Dana had wanted it. She had wanted it for a long time, and no one could see it. She buried it in her love for her students, her time with friends, and that time alone composing music.
She was a complex creature, and she loved herself for it.
Dana nodded, looking down at the table. She was struck by being so seen. It was both intimidating and enlightening.
“You’re right,” Dana said. “I really would like to meet someone who felt things deeply. The way I do.”
Gerri brought a second hand to Dana, who was still clutching the glass of whiskey.
“Then I will help you find it, Ms. Wilson.”