A dating dry spell.Interesting.
“What about you?”
The natural progression of the conversation caught me offguard. I liked finding out more about her. Ihatedtalking about myself.
“Not much to tell. Women are great, but relationships have never been for me.”
“Why’s that?” she pressed.
Because I’ve seen firsthand what being trapped with someone you hate in a loveless marriage looks like.
“Just no interest in it,” I said.
“That’s not a real answer.”
“Moving on.” I clapped my hands together and rubbed them. “Next question.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Favorite childhood memory?” I asked.
Instead of fighting me on it, she paused to think it over. After a minute, she had a dreamy look about her. “It’s not so much one memory, but a bunch of them. My mom didn’t work for a few years to spend more time with me and Mattie. One summer, when I was like five and Mattie was seven, she’d decided the three of us would drive all around to check out any playgrounds we could find. She told us we were doing a survey to find the best one.” She smiled, reminiscing on it. “It felt like the world was so big when we’d show up at a new one after driving for what felt like forever. When I was older, I realized the furthest we ever went was like an hour. I don’t know, that was just such a fun time. Spending all summer with my sister and mom. It only got harder after that, you know? Mattie and I made different friends. My mom went back to work eventually. But that summer felt magical.” She sighed. “I still love a good playground. There’s one across the street from my condo, and I always think about walking over to use the swing set or something.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked.
She scrunched her nose. “Because I’m twenty-eight, and that would be silly.”
“The only thing silly about that is denying yourself something so simple that could bring you even a flicker of joy.”
She looked down at her steaming coffee. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she whispered.
Damn, she was beautiful. Hair a mess from the hike. Cheeks still stained red.
“What’s your favorite memory?” she asked.
Shit. Me again.
“Probably days after school spent at the skate park with Harrison,” I told her. Skateboarding had been the first thing to make me feel alive, and getting out of my weird, tension-filled house was always a relief.
“You’ve mentioned Harrison a few times. Are you close?” she asked.
“He’s like a brother to me,” I said, feeling a small spasm in my chest.
Her brows drew together. “More like a brother than your actual brother?”
I ran a hand down my face. “Um, well, yeah. Nathan and I weren’t the closest growing up. We’re better now—a lot better, actually. But growing up, it was strained.”
“Competitive?” she asked.
If the competition involved separating a family down the middle. “Um, you could say that,” I said.
She carefully chewed a piece of bacon.
Despite my attempts to relax, I realized my body was taut. I forced my shoulders away from my ears, not wanting Frankie to see how uncomfortable I was discussing my family.
“Well, what’s your favorite memory with your family then?” she asked slowly, as if I might spring from the table.
The simple question sank right into my gut like a lead anchor.
