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“Fuck.” She licks aioli from her pointer finger.
“You?”
“It’s been… not fourteen months. But awhile.”
“Why?”
She shakes her head. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“You’ve been single—”
“For two years.”
“There must be a reason.”
She traces the outline of her fork with her thumb. “It’s not one we’re discussing.”
“Yeah, it is.”
She shakes her head.
“You want me to agree?”
“Of course.”
“Then I need to know what the hell you get out of this.”
“Helping you isn’t enough?”
“No.” It needs to be something else. Something that will convince me this won’t fuck shit up.
She stares into my eyes.
I stare back.
“Fine.” She taps her fork against her plate. “You’re incredibly annoying. You know that?”
“Of course.”
She presses her lips together. “There’s someone I want. But he’s not available.”
My shoulders relax.
She’s getting something out of this.
Shit isn’t going to get weird.
This is good.
But there’s another part of me, one that hates the idea of her with this guy who—“You’re the other woman?”
“No. He’s just… You know what. It’s none of your business.”
“And my tragic love life is yours?”
“Well…” She takes a long sip of her coffee. Stares at the glass. “Okay. Yes. I want to do this because of him.”
“To make him jealous?”
