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“I didn’t hate you. I didn’t understand you.”
“So I’m just misunderstood?”
The same man who stood on a field during a football game and disrespected a female referee is the same guy who apologized to her in private. Repeatedly. That guy is the same guy who foots his brother’s bills, cares for his nephew, loves kids, and held my hair after I drank too many Burke-bombers.
“Yes,” I tell him. “If the world knew what you were struggling with, they’d have a hard time labeling you as a bad boy. They might start referring to you as Saint Barrett Fox.”
Another laugh—deep and rough—vibrates up my arms and curls around my heart.
“You’re kind,” I tell him.
“Kind.” He says it like it’s an insult. “I’d rather be sexy.”
“Kindness is very sexy. You don’t find that quality in every man. Hell, I haven’t found it any man.” I think of North. He wasn’t kind. He was...what’s the word? Tolerant. Tolerance isn’t the same as kindness. Kindness is an action. It’s for the brave souls of the world. It’s for the Barrett Foxes of the world.
“I won’t let you down on the column,” he says.
“You’re proving my point. I’m complimenting you and you’re worried about my job.”
“I’m not worried. I’m setting your mind at ease.”
“That’s very considerate.”
“Now I’m considerate and kind?” He winces. “Not the best recipe for getting the girl into bed.”
“It is for this girl.”
“You’re different from any woman I’ve known, Catarina.” He turns with me on our made-up dance floor. “I never imagined I’d have a chance with a woman like you, yet here you are. Giving me one.”
“Knowing you has changed me. Is changing me.”
“You’d have dumped North without me around,” he says.
“Yes. I would’ve.”
I was putting the pieces together on why North and I didn’t fit when I met Fox. It’s clear now that North and I were on the outs. I’d begun to notice the neglect. A cobweb or two could go unnoticed. Dust settling lightly on the surface could be overlooked. But by the time one broken window turns into two, you’d have to be blind not to question if there’s a problem.
I am not blind.
“Who other than you would’ve offered to have sex with me out of pity in Marge’s former office?”
“That was not pity, honey. That was me using my strengths. I thought I could bad-boy you into sex. It’s sort of what I’m known for.”
“Now bad-boy is a verb?”
“Duh.”
“Let’s not talk about it.” I squeeze my eyes shut as we sway to the music.
“You do not like to think about the women I’ve been with, do you?”
“Don’t be smug.”
“You’re jealous and it’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
“You’re fucking adorable. I promise you, mostly it was Beth and me. I didn’t break up with her and immediately bang every chick in a ten-mile radius. Most of the women who brag about sleeping with me haven’t.”
