“Answers to what?”
“What’s going on here,” he says.
I act dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bernadette told me that you like me.”
Fucking Bernadette.
“I don’t know where she got that from,” I lie.
“So you don’t like me . . . ?” His face rests on his hand, so sexually casual, as if he has this conversation every day.
“I do like you, Christopher, but you are not the kind of man I would want to be with, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“Why not?”
I stare at him while I think for a moment. “You’re not my type.”
“I’m everyone’s type.”
I smile. “And there it is.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not looking for everyone’s type.”
“That came out wrong.” He rolls his lips as if annoyed with himself. “Poor choice of words. I mean, how am I not your type? Explain it to me.”
“Look . . .” I pause as I try to get my wording right. “You are Mr. Fun, Mr. Make Everyone Relaxed, and Mr. Looking for a Good Time. Mr. Into Appearances and Being Popular, and although we get on exceptionally well—”
He cuts me off. “Get to the point.”
“You just don’t . . .” I shrug.
“Don’t what?”
“You just don’t have the emotional intelligence I’m looking for.”
He stares at me as if dumbfounded. Keep going . . . , I coach myself.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snaps, annoyed.
I put it back on him. “Why are you asking me this? Are you declaring that you like me, or are you just trying to fish me out to see what’s in my head?”
He stays silent.
“Because an emotionally intelligent man would tell me how he feels, not find out what I’m thinking to weigh up his options.”
He sits back, affronted.
“I am not the kind of girl you normally go for, Christopher. Admit it.”
“I’ll admit it freely. You’re not.”
“And you are not ready to stop having sex with other people. Maybe you never will be. Maybe monogamy isn’t in your future.”
He twists his lips, and I know that I’m right.
Damn it, I hate that I am.
His eyes hold mine. “I could try.”
I frown. “Try what?”
“Not to sleep with anyone else . . .” He shrugs. “We could see how it goes.”
Not exactly a romantic declaration of love. I smile sadly. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Having a man tell me that he can try not to sleep around to see how it goes . . . is not enough to ruin a friendship for me.”
His eyes hold mine. “You want the fairy tale?”
“I deserve the fairy tale.”
His eyes drop to his drink, and he nods. “You’re right, you do.”
We fall silent as we both get lost in our own thoughts.
“One day you’re going to meet a woman, and you will know for certain that she is the one you want to be with.”