Page 46 of Cruel Lies

What I want is the answer. I have a hypothesis—he's the same as Todd, all of them are the same, the whole gender, every man who's ever lived—and I have exactly one data point supporting it. But there is a part of my brain that physically cannot tolerate a conclusion drawn from n=1.

"Eight dates," I say slowly, "is not a small ask."

"No. It's not."

"And I have two children. And a company to take back. And a divorce to finish, which, I'd like to point out, started inyouroffice."

"All true," he says. "Which is why I'll work around all of it. Your schedule. Your terms. You name the day and the time and the place, and if any of them stop feeling safe, you walk, and that counts as data, too." He pauses. "I'm not asking you to trust me, Calista. I'm asking you to let the data tell you the true story."

It's a good speech, I gotta give him that.

But I still have to say no.

I open my mouth to do exactly that.No, I'm sorry, you're very charming and persuasive and I almost kinda believe you mean what you're saying. But I can't. I've been through too much, and I need the rest of my life for some well-deserved R&R.

And then Isabella's voice rings down the hall. "Mom! Mom, Hayden says octopuses have NINE brains and I said that's TOO MANY brains and he won't take it back!"

"It'seight,Bella," Hayden corrects, scandalized at the inaccuracy. "Eight arm-brains and one big one. That's ninetotal,but eightlittleones."

Eight.

I close my eyes.

I think I'm being haunted by a number. What are the odds that it keeps showing up, again and again, with insanely accurate timing right on the precipice of major life decisions?

Everywhere I look, it's eight, eight, eight. I wouldn't be surprised if eight separate pigeons each took a shit on my head right now.

When I open my eyes, Ronan is still there. Waiting. Patient, not pushy.

I fold my fist around the napkin before I can think better of it. "I'm not promising you eight," I tell him. "We'll start with one."

He nods. "As you wish."

"And if even one of them tells me you're another Todd?—"

"You give it back," he says, nodding once at the napkin clutched in my fist. "And I'm gone. You won't have to ask twice. You won't have to ask at all."

"I'm still mad," I tell him, because it's important he understands that the science being good does not make the scientist gracious.

"I would expect nothing less,kotyonok."

"And don't call me that."

"What should I call you?"

"Ms. Meadows," I decide. "That's my maiden name.”

"Ms. Meadows," he repeats. It sounds so good when Ronan says it like that.

He takes a step back down onto the lower stair, putting more distance between us, and grins up at me. "I'll be in touch."

I shut the door before he reaches the sidewalk. Firmly.

Then I stand in my own front hall with my back against the door and my fist still closed around a two-cent napkin that has come to mean so much more.

Hayden calls over to me, "Mom, who was that?"

I look down at my hand and say, honestly, for the first time in longer than I can remember, "I have absolutely no idea."