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“Last name?”

“I didn’t know we were at the background-check stage yet.”

I looked at him. “We’re always at the background-check stage.”

He laughed then the coordinator waved him toward the next table.

“Have a good night, Blair.”

“You too.”

He walked away and Klair appeared in the seat across from me before the next man could get there.

“Oh, you like him.”

“No.”

“You absolutely like him.”

“I don’t know him.”

“You gave him your number.”

“I’ve given potential clients my number. That doesn’t mean I want to entertain them.”

Klair leaned forward. “What does he do?”

“Psychologist.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, absolutely the fuck not.”

I laughed. “Why?”

“You don’t need to date someone who can see inside your brain.”

“He can’t see inside my brain.”

“He made you smile.”

“That isn’t neuroscience.”

I looked where Nash had moved to another table. A woman was laughing at something he’d said.

I instantly felt some type of way. It was an old impulse to evaluate, compare, and measure. Was she prettier? Funnier? More emotionally available? Did she have a clean history? Had she ever loved somebody she wasn’t supposed to? Had she ever become the kind of woman strangers warned each other about?

I hated where my mind went, so I stopped looking over at him.

Klair watched me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

She sighed. “You looked happy for like three minutes.”

“And?”

“And then you did that thing.”