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“Not love?” Zara says, looking confused.
“No. She told me she didn’t love Mitch or Reuben, and even if she’s never confirmed there was anyone else, other than them, I have to assume the same thing would have applied.”
“But she still slept with them?”
“Frequently, from what I could gather.”
Zara shakes her head. “I can’t imagine making love with someone I didn’t love,” she says. We haven’t gotten around to discussing her past in any great detail, but I wonder if that’s her way of telling me something, without telling me anything at all. Does that mean she’s been in love before? I couldn’t complain if she had. I’ve never denied having loved Sabrina at the beginning… before it all went wrong. “Don’t you agree?” she says.
“Oddly enough, I do.”
“Why ‘oddly enough’?”
“Because I know a lot of people say it’s different for men. They say we find it easier to separate sex and emotions.”
“But you don’t agree with that?”
“I used to, but I don’t anymore.”
“Because of what Sabrina did?”
“No.” Because of you.
She stares at me, then lowers her gaze. “Do you think Sabrina loved you at the beginning?” she asks. “Regardless of what followed?”
“Yes, I do. But sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking.”
Zara raises her head again, her eyes fixed on mine. “It’s not,” she whispers. “I’m sure it’s not.”
I smile and take her hand in mine. “Either way, that’s enough for tonight. No more ex-wives. Okay?”
She nods her head, and I glance down at my plate. I’ve eaten more than enough, and it seems Zara has too.
“I feel like all I’ve done is talk about myself,” I say.
“I know, but like I said, I want to get to know you.”
“And when am I gonna be allowed to get to know you?”
“You already do.”
“I’m sure there must be more to you than you’ve told me.”
“Not much. I could elaborate on my father’s death, but I don’t like talking about that, and as for my childhood, it was lived in a tiny town of around two hundred inhabitants. If you think it’s quiet here…” She lets her voice fade, smiling.
“Were you happy?”
“Very, but I wouldn’t say it was exciting.”
The waiter appears beside us, and we lean away from each other so he can remove our plates.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks, and I turn to Zara, raising my eyebrows.
“No, thanks,” she says.
“You don’t want coffee?” She shakes her head and I wonder if that’s because she’s thinking we can have it at her place. I hope so, and I look up at the waiter. “In that case, can you bring the check?”
He nods and disappears.
