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He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I get that way sometimes, especially about punctuality. It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“It’s okay. We all have our flaws.”
“I’m pretty sure you have none,” he says. “Well, except that you probably like glitter far too much. Maybe you’re too-trusting, too. And too talkative.”
I open my mouth in outrage. Thetoo-trustingone had hit a nerve. “You tell me I don’t have any flaws and then come up with three off the top of your head?”
Phillip reaches for one of his drinks. “Two of those are arguably virtues. You know, like how people in job interviews say they’re workaholics?”
“I bet that’s how you got your current job.”
“You think I’m a workaholic?”
“Let’s just say I’m surprised you haven’t checked your emails in the last five minutes.”
His mouth tips into a smile. “I’m pleasantly distracted.”
Oh. I take a long sip of my planter’s punch to avoid answering, only to get spice right up my nose. I burst out coughing. Across the table, Phillip pushes a glass of water my way.
“Lovely,” I wheeze. “Now the rum is trying to kill me.”
“I think that’s alcohol’s game in general,” he says. “Maybe that’s why we all drink it. It’s poison, and we all know it, and yet, most of us win the bouts.”
I stare at him.
“What?” he says.
“That was rather profound.”
He snorts. “It was not. I’ve had just as much to drink as you, even if I’m handling it slightly better.”
I cross my legs. It hurts, my thighs burned to crisps. But it’s easy to ignore the ache when there’s someone so fascinating in front of me. There are so many things I haven’t been able to ask, yet. Things you don’t really ask a new acquaintance, at least not one as ornery as him. But being in this beautiful place and drinking all this rum has made the questions feel possible.
“So why were you so annoyed earlier? It can’t just have been us being a bit late.”
He taps his fingers against his glass. “No,” he finally says. “I got a phone call right before, and it didn’t exactly go great.”
“Ah. Did you find out one of your clients is going to prison?”
The gaze he levels on mine is dry. “I’m a far better attorney than that.”
“Also, you don’t really work on criminal cases.”
“Well, that, too,” he says. “But mostly, the I’m-great part.”
“So what was the call about, then?” I ask.
He twists the glass in his grip. One-quarter rotation, and then another. “Your curiosity is bottomless.”
I give him an apologetic smile. “Yes. There are a ton of things we don’t know about one another.”
“Most things, yes. It’s a natural consequence of just having met.”
I look down at my drink. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sings. Despite being in the shade, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my bare arm. “Was it your ex?”
“No,” he says. “It was my sister. She couldn’t resist saying ‘I told you so.’”
“Oh. About the non-wedding?”
