Page 430 of The Sinner: James

“Are you ready to order?”

I look at Eve.

“I’m good,” she says, glancing at me.

“We’re waiting for someone else,” I say, shifting my gaze to the woman.

“Sure. No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, setting Eve’s iced tea on the table.

The waitress pulls away while I slide my hand over the table, touching Eve’s forearm.

“Tell me... What happened last night?”

Sipping tea through a straw, she mulls over the answer before setting the glass down.

“Well, not much. We made it to my building, hopped in the elevator, and rode it up to my apartment, where he made his move and kissed me in front of my door, which was sexy. The chemistry was there. And he was turned on, and I was too. But then I wrestled with the lock, eager to invite him in, when he stopped kissing me, and everything halted.”

I toss a questioning look at her.

“He remembered he had someone in his life and realized he went too far with me,”

“Then he realized?” I ask.

“I asked him the same question. He blamed it on the alcohol, getting swept away, and flirting mindlessly.”

“He came onto you.”

“Yeah, he did. And he admitted it but never thought we would hit it off. In the end, it dawned on him that if we ended up together, he would put his relationship at risk.”

I roll my eyes, growling with frustration.

“What a self-centered prick. Why was he in a club if he had someone at home?”

She flicks her hand up.

“It’s not worth talking about him. That was not the first time it happened to me.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Sent him home.”

She smiles, but soon her grin fades, and sadness rolls over her eyes.

She drinks more tea, trying to keep her spirits up.

“So… Seemingly, it’s up to those two men in Monte Carlo,” she jokes.

It’s her favorite joke, but I don’t feel like laughing.

Her inability to find someone gnaws at my conviction that it’s all a matter of fate and opportunity.

She’s had plenty of opportunities.

She’s had relationships and boyfriends, but her hookups have never amounted to anything.

And every single time she moved on, she also tried different things. Different kinds of men. Different approaches. She lowered the bar and pushed up the bar, and the results were all the same.

No matter how seriously she took them, the outcome was always the same.

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