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Tiffany arrives back with our drinks and puts them on the table in front of us. “Thank you.” He smiles as he raises his glass to me. “Bottoms up.” He takes a sip.
I raise my eyebrow as I watch him, unimpressed that he’s drinking our favorite red wine, and I’m not.
“I’m more empathetic now,” he tells me.
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “Really? Has this change happened today?”
“No, why do you say that?”
“Well, you were especially self-absorbed last night.”
“Hmm.” He sips his wine, and I can almost see his lips twitching as he tries to hold his tongue. “I’ve worked on that.”
“Who with? Your therapist?”
“Here’s your bread.” The waitress puts the bread onto the table, and she looks between us with a huge smile.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, get lost Tiffany.
Nathan butters his bread. “Do you want some?” he asks me.
Don’t say it… don’t say it… don’t say it.
“How many men have you slept with since we broke up?” I ask. Shut up, shut up.
“None.”
“None?”
“Nearly one, but I didn’t go through with it.”
“What does that mean?”
“We left a bar with the intention of having sex, but once I was outside, I realized I didn’t want it and I left. That’s not my… I’m not into it.”
“How many women?”
“None that count.”
“Nathan.” I snap.
“Why would you want to know that?”
“Because I need to know. I want to have all the facts in front of me.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
His brow furrows as if doing an internal risk assessment. “Four.”
Hmm, not as bad as I imagined. “Who are they?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” He whispers angrily.
“You want me to process everything. This is me doing that.”
“I have no idea. They work at the strip club.”
