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“Huh?”
“Do you, in fact, have mirrors in your house?”
“Mirrors?” She stared at him blankly. “Uh, yes?”
“Did you happen to look in one of these mirrors before I picked you up?”
“Oh, no.” She brushed under her nose, put a hand to her hair, ran her tongue over her teeth. “What is it? What did I miss?”
He put his fork down. “Either Abigail is a freak of nature or your ideas of gorgeous and sex-appeal are completely off.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Seriously? This isn’t an act?”
“Justin, if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about I’ll…”
The only thing she could think of involved attacking him somehow and that seemed like more fun than punishment.
“You’ll
what?”
“I don’t know, I’m not the violent type. But something truly evil.”
“Here’s a clue. If you’re the absolute opposite of Abigail then she should be toothless, drooling and six hundred pounds, with foul body odor.”
She blinked at him. He was right. She did have mirrors at her house. She’d peered into several tonight and had seen Sexy Glamour Girl’s reflection and knew she looked good, and therefore what she was saying didn’t make any sense. Justin probably thought she was fishing for compliments, though he’d responded sincerely.
All she could say was that this vision before him wasn’t her. This was clothes and makeup. Abigail…well being near her could make Miss America insecure. “Thank you. You have to meet Abigail to know what I mean.”
“I don’t need to meet Abigail. I have no idea how you could have reached your ripe, young age and not have a clue how hot you are. What was wrong with your boyfriend?”
Candy bristled, about to say “absolutely nothing,” but that wasn’t a great thing to say on a date. “He was—”
Justin held up his hand. “Rhetorical question. I’m not asking you to defend him. And I’m sorry I derailed your answer to my question.”
“No, don’t…it’s fine.” She hardly knew what to say. He had identified the problem, apologized and wanted to move on. Men she knew always bogged down the conversation with their need to be right.
“Before I interrupted to comment on your devastating appearance, you were saying Abigail is your opposite.”
Candy forced her brain back on track, still confused, but glowing from his compliments. “Abby grew up poor in a house full of brothers and sisters. When she realized college wasn’t for her and that her job prospects weren’t incredible, she decided to hell with happy ever after, and went looking for money. She married obscenely rich.”
“If you’re her opposite, then you’re looking for true love with a soul mate, wallet be damned.”
“Yes.” She expected him to make fun, but he waited calmly for more of her answer. “I found him once. Seems greedy to ask lightning to strike twice. But bottom line, yes, love is more important to me in a relationship than money.”
“Good for you.”
She finished her soup, strangely shy. “How about you?
Have you ever been… Have you ever found it?”
“True love with a soul mate?” He shook his head. “Not me. I came close a couple of times, thought I was there when I was in it, but in retrospect, no cigar. I’m not like Abigail either, though. I’m still hoping.”
Candy nodded and finished the rest of her margarita, wondering if the woman who hurt him was the one he thought he 70
loved, but reluctant to pursue the conversation. It didn’t feel right talking about forever-after on a first date.
“Ready for another?”
“They’re
strong…”
“I’m
driving.”
“Okay, you convinced me.”
He laughed, and she was struck by how easy it could become to talk to him about pretty much any topic. He seemed to take everything in stride: superficial, personal, bittersweet or funny.
“What do you do when you’re not throwing parties and driving men to distraction all over Milwaukee?” He signaled to the waitress just leaving the next table.
