Page 11 of With This Lie

“I could pretend for you, if you want?” she says, teasing back.

“Ouch. You pull no punches,” I say.

She sits across from me and picks up the other menu.

I pretend to look over it even though I decided what I wanted before I ever came in and started reading the damn thing. “So what will you have?” I ask.

“Probably a salad,” she says.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why what?”

“Why probably a salad? Is it because you’re one of those girls who likes salad or is it because some moron told you that you were fat at some point?” I ask.

“Wow. Now who’s not pulling any punches?”

“I can be blunt sometimes. I apologize,” I say, sitting my menu down in front of me.

“It’s okay. I like it,” she says. “It’s a bit refreshing, given humanity’s current climate.”

We both laugh and settle into a bit of silence before the waitress returns.

“I noticed you had company, so I brought two waters with lemon. Hope that’s okay?” she asks, looking down at Dani.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Dani says.

The waitress takes our orders and walks away and we are facing the silence again.

“To answer your question, both,” Dani says. “I genuinely like salad. And also, at some point in my life, men have been mean to me.”

I nod, admiring her complete honesty and vulnerability in this moment. There was nothing to tease about there. “Thank you for your honesty,” I say.

“You would be the only one thanking me. No one else seems to actually appreciate honesty the way they say they do. Everyone wants the truth, but only if it fits into their box, if it fits their needs. If it doesn’t, well, then you’re not being honest, you’re being a dick. I guess I just fail to see the difference.” She shrugs.

Wow. In all my life, I’m not sure I’ve met someone who spoke this kind of honesty. It isn’t just refreshing, it’s sexy. “You might not believe me, but I completely and totally agree with you,” I say.

She smiles and nods in confirmation.

Our booth falls silent for a few minutes, perhaps because neither of us know what to say next. Perhaps because we are both trying not to say too much. It isn’t as awkward as I imagine some encounters to be. It’s sort of nice, actually. More natural.

“So you’re married?” she asks, gesturing down at my ring.

Fuck. Full on panic mode is now settling in. I can’t exactly back up now. Fuck. “Umm, yeah, I am actually,” I say. I snap my rubber band. Curse this stupid ring and curse my habitual putting it on when I leave the house and curse me for being such a dick.

“Happily?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

What? No way. Not her. Really? If I knew anything by now, it’s how a woman reacts to news that you’re married but doesn’t actually give a shit and would totally pursue you anyway. And this was that. And I didn’t expect that. “You caught me. No, not really. It’s been very hard recently,” I reply, playing my part as usual.

“Why don’t you just leave her, then?” she asks.

This is always the next question. I always give the same answer. “I’m not sure, really. A part of me really loves her, you know? A part of me tries to hold onto the memories of what we were before this, and I like to believe we are capable of being those people again, capable of having what we had again.” This always gets them right in the heart.

But Dani just nods her head. She sits back all the way against the booth seat and folds her arms in front of her. “I call bullshit,” she says.

Well, I can’t say that’s ever happened until now. ‘I’m sorry?” I ask quickly.

“You heard me. Bullshit,” she says.

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