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“So you just thought you’d publicly humiliate me instead?”
He laughed. “Do you honestly think I wanted the world to know you cheated on me? You think that’s not humiliating? It was the only way to make you see what you’d become.”
“Oh, wow. You were making a sacrifice. I should be thanking you, right?”
“Sunny . . .”
“How about having a private conversation?”
“I tried a million times. And I was running out of time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Food Network. If that show hit the air, you’d have gone from a couple of million followers to twenty million. It would’ve been too late.” He paused. “I’m sorry if you hate me. It had to be done.”
“Really? Who asked you to take on the role of moral authority? Whatever I did to you, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What this is, is something else. It was cruel.”
“Was it cruel? How are you doing?”
I looked at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How are things out in Montauk? ’Cause from what I’m hearing, it’s going pretty well.”
“I’m smelling trash every night and living on my sister’s couch. No, correction, I was staying on Rain’s couch. Now I’m living with a smelly fisherman. It’s thrilling.”
“At least it’s honest.”
I was seriously considering hitting him. “What did you just say?”
“You used to value telling the truth. Over pretty much everything. Tell me you’re not a little relieved to be in that position again.”
I didn’t know how to answer him—or maybe I just didn’t want to answer him. If I admitted that it wasn’t all terrible, that I didn’t just fall apart, he’d feel like he did the right thing. Which was the last way I wanted him to feel.
“I just needed . . .” He paused. “Do you remember our first date?”
Did he really think I was in the mood for a walk down memory lane? “You’ve got to be kidding, Danny,” I said.
“No, I’ve really been trying to remember it. I know that I dragged you for an hour and a half to some fancy restaurant in downtown Portland ’cause I was trying to impress you. And I know you wanted to split the squab. I thought that was so exotic. Who orders squab? Not something you order in the Midwest.”
“It was quail.”
“See? Can’t remember.”
I could. Without even having to try, I could tell him everything about that night. We did eat the quail—which was terrible. Or I should say, I ate it. Danny, who was wearing a tie over a T-shirt (no joke), ordered truffle fries and tried to push the truffle part off of them, drowning them in ketchup to mask the taste. And I wore a short dress, which I thought made me look sexy, but it probably made me look like I was trying too hard. I forgot to be embarrassed. I forgot to decline the last bite of almond cake when he offered it to me. And I didn’t even pause in front of my door debating whether to let him come upstairs. It was as if from go, I had no ability to play games with him. I don’t know why I was so confident in my terrible dress. I was, though. I was confident I had found my person. Who happened to be twenty-one and a freaking jackass.
Danny shook his head. “I know at some point it started going well. But I don’t know, the details are a little slippery . . . maybe it’s because, whenever I think of you, I’m stuck on the day we met.”
I stared at him, not sure where he was going with this, not sure I wanted to know.
“We were at the football game, right? And you were sitting in the row in front of me.”
“I was behind you, Danny.”
He shook his head. “No, definitely not. You were sitting in the row in front of me, and I tapped on your friend’s shoulder to ask if she had an extra beer. And she did, she had brought a six-pack, which was right beside her, and there were two beers left, and she started to give me one. But then you stopped her, literally pulled the beer back and said, no way.”
He was right. That was what I’d said. And he was also right that I was sitting in front of him. I had turned around and looked at him. This guy who had that killer smile—those eyes—and I realized that probably no one had ever turned him down before. No one had ever said that they didn’t have an extra beer for him. They probably ran out and grabbed one for him, if they needed to.
But I had wanted that beer—had been looking forward to it—and I knew that if she gave it to him, she would keep the other one for herself. So I pulled it back, told him he would have to head up to the concession stand. You know, like everybody else. Sorry, was I asking you? he’d said. But he was already flirting a little. He was already leaning forward to see what I would say next.
