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I smile at her. “Not much gets past psychologists.”
She shrugs. “I pay more attention than most. Which is why I notice that you still haven’t answered the neighbor question. You’ve been polite but distant tonight. I wonder if she’s why.”
I sigh and look down at my plate of half-eaten butternut squash ravioli. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s more fun to watch you all twisted into knots than a run-of-the-mill first date would be.”
“I hate feeling obvious.”
“I don’t know if you are to anyone else, but as you noted, I pay attention. And we happen to be straying into one of my subspecialties, which is human connection. So tell Dr. Leigh all about it.”
I do, starting with meeting Paige on the sidewalk and ending with, “and there was . . . possibly kissing.”
“By the color of your cheeks, I’m guessing it was pretty good.”
Why am I blushing like a debutante? This is asinine. “Better than good.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says. “What are you going to do about it?”
If there is such a thing as a frustrated shrug, that’s what I give her. “WhatcanI do about it? She’s made it clear she’d rather I was safely back in the friend zone.”
“You mean because you let her think you were into me?” She arches an eyebrow at me.
“I am.” She arches the other one. “Fine. I was.”
“Uh-huh. Did you clue her in that your interest in me has faded?”
It feels harsh when she says it that way. “It’s not you,” I say. “It’s me.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Honestly, Henry, do I look like I care?”
I study her face for a moment. “You do not.”
“Correct. In fact, I’m very invested in this neighbor saga. What’s your next move?”
I slump. “Nothing. If she’s not interested, I have to respect that.”
“Once again, Dr. Hill, I must point out that you’ve offered no evidence that she isn’t interested.” She signals for the waiter. “I’ll take the check, please. This one’s on me, Henry, for the sheer entertainment you’ve provided tonight.”
“Glad you find it funny.”
“I’d like an invitation to the wedding.”
“Ha ha.”
She leans forward, her eyes sparkling. “But Henry, that wasn’t a joke.”
I have no idea if my dinner with Leigh went well or horribly. It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose. But I lie awake for a long time, wondering how long the soft glow of the light behind Paige’s bedroom curtain will stay on.
I’m not prone to insomnia, but I wake up on Sunday feeling like I’d barely fallen asleep before the sun slanted through the curtains.
I spend a couple of minutes talking myself into a run until I hear faint noise outside. I slip on a pair of joggers and an old race T-shirt, then head downstairs to investigate.
Evie, Paige, and Bill are in an animated conversation in her front yard. Bill appears to be tugging at one of the painted Christmas backdrops, and Paige is waving her hands like she’s not thrilled with him.
I debate for a minute, but there’s no real question about whether or not I’m going out. I’ll take any excuse to see Paige.
“—want them,” Paige is saying as I shut my door behind me. “Stop. Leave them.”
