“And they’re your best friends.” It’s not a question.
“Also, yes…”
“Therefore, it seems a perfectly friendly question for discussion.”
I blink at him for a few moments, trying to get a better idea of his angle on this. Why would he want to know? Why does he care? I try to decide if there’s a way I can avoid answering, but I know he’s going to keep bothering me until I give him a real answer. So, answering his question it is. “No,” I say simply. When he continues to watch me, I realize it’s not going to be that simple. I sigh. “Not really, at least. I thought I was, but I’m beginning to think that maybe I was more in love with the idea of him and the companionship aspect of our relationship, but I don’t think I was ever truly in love withhim, if that makes sense?”
He nods, eyes far away as if he’s turning my answer around in his head. “It does. Seems like you’ve been doing some soul searching lately.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had some idle time as of late which means plenty of time with my thoughts. Jordan recently also called to my attention that I tend to keep myself from being happy for whatever fucked up reason I don’t know.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” he says.
I scoff. “No? I work all the time. I travel—or at least I used to—to the point that I’m almost never home and it’s created a wedge in every relationship I’ve ever had. I prioritized my career for so many years. It always came first. Still does.”
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you prioritized your career. If that’s what made you happy at the time, then who’s to say youwere wrong. I think the question should be, is itstillmaking you happy. If it is, then great. If it’s not, then maybe you need to sit down with those thoughts of yours and figure out what would make you happy now. People change, Isa. Just because it used to bring you joy, doesn’t mean it still does.”
I narrow my eyes at the man sitting across for me. This goofy, carefree, thoughtful man who seems to drop bombs of wisdom on me at unsuspecting moments. “When did you become so wise?”
He shrugs and grins. “I channeled my inner Marie Kondo. But instead of physical items, I applied it more broadly to life.”
I burst out laughing. “You watch Marie Kondo? I don’t believe that.”
“My sisters are obsessed. Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice either.” He laughs in return.
“Alright, it’s my turn I think?—”
“Hold on a minute, you never passed that one back to me,” he interrupts.
I didn’t even realize I missed giving him a chance to answer the same question. But maybe subconsciously I knew and didn’t actually want to know the answer. Do I want to know the answer? Why does it even matter to me if I know? It’s not like it would change anything. He’s off limits for me, and whether or not he’s ever been in love has no bearing on changing that.
“Fine, go ahead.” I wave my hand at him.
He smirks. “Yeah, I think I have.”
I don’t enjoy the way our meal now sits like a rock in my stomach. It doesn’t matter. It’s notallowedto matter. I don’t care.
But then why does it feel like I care?
“That’s great,” I croak out.
“Yeah, I think it’s pretty great too,” he says with a look on his face I can’t quite decipher.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and attempting to get this conversation back on track. “What’s the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”
“Ooo, that’s going to require some more thought,” he says, loading his plate up with more food.
“Well, you hated my other question so much, I had to up the stakes.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got it. It was my rookie season. There was this girl I spotted at the bar after a home game. I thought she was cute, and she was clearly checking me out too.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I give his shoulder a light shove, causing him to burst out in laughter. “Anyway! As I was saying, we were checking each other out. I got her number and asked her out to dinner. I was young and stupid at the time, so I didn’t realize that all she saw was an up-and-coming professional baseball player and only wanted a casual fuck.”
I don’t know what it is, but the way he saysfucksends a shiver through me. “That’s terrible,” I say, voice soft as I let my hand fall to cover his.
“Yes, well, it’s the name of the game unfortunately.” His voice comes out flat. He clears his throat, getting himself back on track. “So, we end up at some fancy restaurant downtown for dinner. I tried to pull out all the stops to impress her, but she wouldn’t stop asking about the team and baseball. I don’t think she asked a single question aboutme. It was all about her or my career trajectory. That was when I got my reality check of the downside to being in the public eye like this. It makes it hard to find those genuine connections. You never know who is actually honest with their feelings and who just wants to ride your coattails to the top.” He shrugs. “It’s why I liked you when we first met. You couldn’t give two shits about who I am and what I do for a living.” He smirks in my direction, and it draws a laugh from me despite the downer vibe of what he’s confessed.
“I wouldn’t say that…”
“I would! You absolutely hated me. It was like I was a bug on your shoe,” he says with a laugh.
