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And what did he think now? Did getting to know me make it different?

I guess it didn’t matter.

Obviously what was supposed to happen happened.

I was with Mike—and I cared about him. Deeply. But I wasn’t sure if I loved him. I kept waiting for it to be clearer, and it just never was.

Maybe what Lexi said all those months ago had been right, my candle was burning low. I thought that things would heat up as time went on, but they didn’t, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Or if I should do anything at all.

I didn’t want to be the kind of person who gets comfortable in an okay relationship and just wiggles down into it and never leaves.

I didn’t want to make mistakes and then just keep making them like Mom did. But I also didn’t want to be the kind of person who gives up something steady and promising without giving it a chance to be great. I didn’t want to break up with a good man, especially when he hadn’t done anything wrong. And maybe in six months I’d feel differently, I’d know for sure which way I was leaning. But no matter which way that ended up being, this was the direction I’d chosen and Chris was right: There was no point in talking about it now. We were friends. He was my boyfriend’s best friend. Whatever “What If” could have happened didn’t and it never would.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to.

We stared up at the sign for a moment. I had to take the picture, but I didn’t want to. Once I did, the night would be over and I wasn’t ready. Maybe I wanted the adventure of it, or the high of making the money, or maybe I didn’t want to go back to my tiny, crowded, smokey apartment.

Or maybe it was something else.

“Thanks for taking me to do this,” I said.

“No problem,” he said, not looking at me.

I smiled softly up at The King. “Can I pay you for the gas?” I asked.

“No. Then you won’t make your quota.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

I wanted to argue, but I didn’t think it would help. And anyway, he was right. I couldn’t really afford to give it to him.

“I hate being broke,” I said, so quietly I was surprised he heard me.

“It won’t always be like this,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re too industrious.”

“Lots of very hardworking people live in poverty.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the other stuff. The business sense, the tenacity, the intuition.”

“You can tell all that just from sharing a dog with me?” I teased.

“No, I can tell because I see it.” He turned to me now and looked me in the eye.

The corner of my lip twitched.

“I can either chase the life I want or I can settle for the life I have, Chris. And I will never settle. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever get anywhere. It just means I won’t ever stop trying.”

He studied me quietly and I took in a deep breath and let it out.

“Sometimes, when I’m feeling sorry for myself,” I said, “I think about how rich I’d be five hundred years ago. I get to drink coffee every morning imported from foreign lands. I have sugar just lying around and fruits out of season.”

“The finest textiles,” he said, nodding at my Hawaiian dress with Woofarine’s face on it.