Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(32)

And again.

One last night.





Grace


Rare is the occasion that Rox and I have the same day off, but here we are, at an outdoor café enjoying the nip in the fall air during a day of intermittent sunshine. The sun ducks behind a huge gray cloud and we both reach for our coats.

“Ohio, man,” she grunts, zipping up.

“I know. Thirty-two degrees two days ago, sixty-two degrees today.”

“Winter is the new spring.” She lifts her cheeseburger and takes a hearty bite. Then she points at me with one of her onion rings. “What’s going on with you lately? Anything new?”

“I’m seeing someone. Or well, I saw someone. ‘Seeing’ implies present tense.” I maneuver the straw to my mouth and take a long, syrupy drink of ice-cold cola.

“When did this happen? Who is he?” She drags the onion ring through her ketchup and notices I’m practically drooling. “Here. For God’s sake, Grace, just get the damn fried food if you want it.”

I happily accept her onion ring. Rox has a point. Why do I insist on ordering a salad when I really want what she’s eating? Then again, I don’t have her natural metabolism. To keep my curves in check, I have to eat responsibly. I munch the onion ring.

Heaven.

Maybe I’ll order a side of onion rings for dessert.

After I finish chewing, I tell her what she’s missed.

“Remember me mentioning the regular at McGreevy’s who’s working his way down a sexual bucket list with blondes?” I ask.

“Yes.” Rox drags out the word, her excitement increasing.

“I dared him to ask out a nonblonde.” I gesture to myself. “And he did.”

“How was the man whore?” she asks, using my earlier description. Only now that seems shallow. I wince.

“He’s thoughtful. He’s charming. He’s sexy and successful….” And was stood up on his wedding day, which means he probably needs a few years’ therapy. “Anyway. We ended it last Thursday.”

“Why?” Rox’s forehead crinkles. “What happened?”

“It was time. We agreed on three dates,” I say, simplifying for her sake, “and once we hit three, we walked away. You know, before things became big and complicated.”

I throw a hand as if this isn’t a big deal and hasn’t been plaguing me for days. On the bright side I have no one to get naked for, so I steal another onion ring. The waitress stops by with refills for our drinks.

“Could you bring us another side of onion rings?” Rox asks. When the waitress leaves, she tilts her head. “Grace, it always gets complicated. You don’t have to marry the guy because you continue past three dates. If he’s not interested in anyone else, and you’re not interested in anyone else, then why not keep dating?” She pauses before asking, “He’s not interested in anyone else, is he?”

“Good question. I haven’t seen him in three days, so I guess anything could’ve happened.” I shrug, trying to play down the ache in my heart when I picture him scrolling through his phone contacts in search of his next date. I’d like to think he hasn’t moved on, but how would I know?

“Text him.” Rox tosses another onion ring on top of my ignored salad. I dip it in the ketchup on her plate. “Find out if he’s still interested and let go of this self-sabotage habit you’re so fond of.”

Around my delicious, crunchy, ketchupy onion ring, I argue, “I don’t self-sabotage.”

She gives me a look of disbelief. I think back to a few of the men I’ve dated and…Okay, I do self-sabotage.

“Cutting it short before things get bad seems smart,” I defend weakly.

“Which works,” Rox says, her voice gentle. “Until it doesn’t.”

The waitress brings fresh onion rings to the table. Steam rises from the plate between Rox and me.

“I played my share of the field, Grace; you know this. But when I saw Mark, I felt different. We were different together. If I’d cast him aside, I would’ve missed out on being engaged.” Her smile is genuine—thoroughly contented. “I’m getting married. Me! Married!”

We both chuckle, because the idea of Rox married was more preposterous at one time than the idea of me getting married. She shared my belief that love was at best temporary, at worst a fantasy.

“Send him a text. Reach out,” she tells me. “If he’s already moved on, then you’ll have the smug satisfaction of being right. But if he hasn’t…”

“If he hasn’t…” I repeat, fear flooding my veins.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Rox grabs one of the piping hot onion rings. “You’re kind of spectacular.”





Chapter 12


Davis


I collapse on my couch with a bottle of beer. I ate a terrible microwave dinner, then changed out of my suit and pulled on a pair of drawstring gray sweats and a tee. Normally, Monday night would be a McGreevy’s night. I’ve been avoiding McGreevy’s. It’s not that I don’t want to see Grace…

It’s that I do.

She doesn’t want to date me. I’m trying to be a nice guy and respect her boundaries.