Room-maid(49)

It was. And the next woman out of the limo introduced herself as a women’s empowerment / life coach and then scored a point for women’s empowerment by wrestling in the Jell-O pool with another contestant.

Tyler shook his head. “All this for the chance that they might get to go on a date with this bland, mediocre guy who won’t remember either one of their names? Why are we watching this again?”

I shushed him and said, “Because it’s about true love winning out and . . . I have to watch it.”

“Why?”

“To find out what happens next!”

At that he laughed again, thoroughly amused by my response. When the show ended, he got up to get himself a drink from the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” he asked.

“I’m fine—” I stopped speaking when he went for the fridge. Oh no, I’d totally forgotten about the . . .

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a large plastic bowl.

Oksana again. I didn’t really want to hear from him how fantastic and gorgeous she was and what a good cook and a good everything else. I was having fun with him watching TV. I didn’t want the specter of her to ruin that.

“That’s . . .” My brain ran through a million different answers but I sighed as I settled for honesty. Maybe it would be a good thing to hear about how much he liked her. It would remind me where I stood with him. “That’s your borscht.”

He looked alarmed. “My what?”

“It’s the soup that Oksana came by and made for you.”

I got myself all ready to view the heart-wrenching list of emotions that I was sure were going to show up on his face at the thought that his beloved girlfriend had made him food, but he just looked bewildered. “Oksana was here?”

Why did he seem so confused? “I thought you knew. Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“No!” He put the container away in the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water and came back to sit by me on the couch. Was it my imagination or was he sitting marginally closer than before? “We went on, like, two dates months ago and then she basically dumped me.”

“Who would do that?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but realized that I did when he laughed. It wasn’t a joke, though. I couldn’t imagine someone telling Tyler, Thanks, but no thanks.

“Oksana did. Pretty convincingly.”

“And what, she changed her mind?” That I couldn’t blame her for. Maybe she woke up one morning and realized how stupid she had been.

“My guess is things didn’t work out with the Saudi Arabian billionaire she left me for.”

“Wow. That’s . . . shocking.” If only because I’d been rich and didn’t have a Tyler in my life, and I much preferred now, being broke and having Tyler. As a friend and roommate, but still.

“I thought so at the time. I don’t intend to be anybody’s backup plan.”

“I know the feeling,” I confessed. And without thinking, without weighing the ramifications when something similar had happened just a few minutes ago, I said, “My . . . friend, Brad? He’s broken up with me more than once to date somebody else.” Someone prettier, thinner, or from a socially superior family. It made me ill to think of all the times I’d been told to take him back and had done it.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler reached over briefly to rest his hand on top of mine and it was like time stood absolutely still and nothing existed beyond the feel of his skin on mine. It was electric.

And I keenly felt the loss of him when he moved his hand away.

“Thanks. I was actually worried about bringing her up because I didn’t know what her status with you was. Or whether we had that kind of . . . relationship.”

He grinned. “I definitely think we’ve reached the a-stranger’s-in-our-apartment-and-I’m-letting-you-know stage of our friendship. Right?”

I nodded. Yep. That was me. His friend. His nonappealing buddy who did hilarious things like letting his former hookup hang out and make him borscht.

As one does.

Now that I knew the truth, I wanted him to know everything, too. “Does that also mean that we have the kind of friendship where I tell you I saw her in a restaurant yesterday making out with some older man?”

“It doesn’t surprise me.”

That made one of us. “I assumed she was your girlfriend. It surprised the crap out of me.”

After he finished laughing, he said, “To be honest, we never should have dated in the first place. I went out with her because she seemed like the kind of girl I should be dating. The sort of woman the other guys at the office are dating. We never had anything in common, and I definitely didn’t see it going anywhere. Like, I couldn’t imagine her and me sitting here on the couch, watching television and talking, like you and I are doing. If she hadn’t ended things, I would have.”

While that was truly excellent news, one thing didn’t make sense to me still, and instead of guessing I decided to just ask. “Then how did she know about me? And when you’d be back from your trips?”

“She’s been texting me lately.”

That wasn’t an explanation. “So?”

“So, wouldn’t it be mean for me not to answer? I told her about you because she texted me the day you moved in and asked what I was up to. And when she asked about my future plans, I told her about my trips.”