“What type of guy is that?”
“Handsome, smart, Prince Charming types. Confident to the point of arrogance. The guy every girl wants and every guy wants to be.”
“So you date a lot of selfish assholes?”
“Indeed, I find their narcissism irresistible.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess I like capturing their attention. I think to myself, ‘This guy could have anyone, and he wants me.’ Something about that feels good. But . . .” I looked at my left hand, fingers spread. “It doesn’t last, and I wind up disappointed.”
“Were you married or something?” He gestured toward my hand.
“Engaged. Very briefly.”
“To who?”
“To a very handsome and charismatic asshole named Merrick, who now lives in Manhattan where I imagine he is joyfully banging an array of hot models, which was what he told me he’d rather do than be with me.”
“Got it.” He took another drink. “So this stretch of being single—it’s going to cure you of your taste for those guys?”
“Hopefully.” I shrugged. “But if not, I will at least prove to myself that it’s possible to be happy without being in love.”
He gave me one of his signature grunts. “It’s definitely possible.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said, amused. “You don’t believe in happily ever after.”
“Who told you that? Wait, never mind.” He shook his head. “Those two cannot keep their mouths shut.”
“So it’s true?”
“Yes.”
“Was your divorce that bad?”
“My marriage was that bad.”
“Ah.” A hot gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I tucked it behind my ear. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wouldn’t change anything. I got Hallie and Luna out of it, and I can’t imagine my life without them, so I figure this was always how it was supposed to be.”
I tilted my head. “You think you were destined to be unhappily married?”
He took another sip. “I think I was meant to be a father, but not a husband.”
“Got it.” I looked up at the sky. It was too cloudy to see stars tonight. “I think I was meant to be a wife and a mother.”
“You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time.”
I chewed my bottom lip a moment. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
He gave me a wary sideways glance. “Okay.”
“Did you leave your marriage? Or did she?”
“She asked me to leave.”
“Oh.” A minute ticked by in silence, while my mind wandered between the past and the present. “My mom left us when I was two.”
He was silent a moment. “That must have been tough.”
“I think it was harder on my sisters. I was so young, I don’t even remember her living in the same house with us. I grew up hardly knowing her.”
“You didn’t visit her?”
“At first we did. She moved down to Georgia after she left, and my sisters and I would visit her there during the summer for a couple weeks, but we never loved it.”
He sipped his beer again. “I used to go really long periods of time without seeing my kids—months and months, when I was deployed. I dealt with it because I had to. But now I can’t imagine it. I fucking miss them when I don’t see them for five days.”
“She used to make promises about coming up to see us, but she rarely kept them. After a while, we stopped believing them.” I paused. “And eventually, she didn’t even make them anymore.”
Dex looked at me, then reached over and touched my wrist. “You deserved better.”
Surprised, I glanced down at his hand, which must have made him self-conscious because he removed it. “Anyway,” I said, trying to lighten my tone, “I’m hoping my declaration of independence will prevent me from making the same relationship mistakes I’ve made in the past. Or at least help me learn to be a better judge of character.”
“So if I see any selfish-looking pricks on your doorstep, should I tell them to fuck off? I think I’m an excellent judge of character.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, smiling as I imagined him lurking on his doorstep, giving the next Merrick a menacing growl.
He nodded. “I can spot a narcissistic asshole a mile away. I was raised by one.”
“Oh.” My smile faded.