Page 247 of My Rules

“Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” I ask.

His eyes hold mine. “What kind of date?”

Huh?

He wasn’t supposed to say that. I’ve practiced this conversation a million times over in my head, and he never said that.

“What kind of dates are there?”

“Well, if you came here to fuck me ...” His eyes dance with defiance. “I wouldn’t say no. But if you came here to ask me to go on a real date, I would say not a chance in hell.”

Ouch . . .

I nod as I swallow the lump in my throat. “Right.”

Short-term pain for long-term gain.

“Then ... looks like it’s no date.”

His eyes hold mine.

“I can fuck anybody, Blake. I didn’t need to come all the way to New York to do that.”

“Sweet.”

“Looks like it.”

He downs the rest of his drink. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“I’m at the Hilton, room 706.”

“And you are telling me this ... because?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No reason.” I shrug. “Just in case you change your mind.”

“Do you fuck on first dates now?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

His eyes hold mine. “How many men have you slept with?”

“None that matter.”

“Very amusing, Rebecca, but stop wasting my time.”

“Okay.”

“Happy divorce. Good luck in the new house.”

“Not the way I wanted to celebrate it ... but whatever.”

“Not my problem.” He stands. “Go find another first date to fuck.” He walks off back to his friends as I stare after him.

Damn it.

That was not the way that was supposed to go down.

Shit . . .

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