Page 55 of The Best Wild Idea
“I’ve never done this,” I tell him, choosing a cube of bread before sliding it onto the mini spear. I watch as he swirls a potato the size of my thumb around the white melted cheese.
“Never done fondue in Switzerland? What in the world have you spent your adult life doing?” he asks sarcastically. “You like your white dry as a bone, right?” He picks up one of the little carafes and pours a splash into my glass. “Try this one first.”
“I’ve spent my entire adult life working,” I answer. “Normal people work most of their adult life, Si. Not spend it eating fondue in Switzerland.”
I smile. It’s meant to be a joke but he sets the carafe down, stealing a breath before settling his eyes on me.
“Jules,” he says.
“Yes?”
“I know I was an ass to you at one point, and I know you get most of your information about me now through tabloids, which, by the way, feature almost nothing but fabricated shit tosell clicks and subscriptions . . . But if we’re going to spend the next few weeks together, I’d like to clear one more thing up.”
I set my fork down.
“Fair enough. I’m all ears,” I say, then take the sip of the white wine he’s poured for me. “Damn,” I whisper. “That’s good.”
“I know good wine.” He smirks.
“Clearly.”
“Okay, first, do I have a privileged lifestyle? Absolutely. But do I work my tail off for it now? Yes. Did I always? No. But did I ask for any of this?” He waits for me to answer this time.
I blink back at him. I’ve never considered that.
“No.”
“You work hard at your job, and I work hard at mine. Let’s just leave it at that.” He picks his fork back up, ready to move on.
I frown, nodding. “That’s fair,” I concede. He has a point.
He takes a sip of wine, then drains the glass.
“Next,” he says, pouring a splash from a different carafe into his glass. “Speaking of work, tell me what the hell a dating coach does.”
I laugh, realizing that there’s a lot for us to catch up on.
“Well, probably exactly what you’d think I do. Sit down with people, just like this, and tell them what they’re doing wrong when it comes to attracting a partner.”
He laughs then leans back in his chair.
“I can see how you would be good at that. People pay you to tell them what they’re doing wrong?”
I grin. “Among other things, yes.”
“Brilliant.” He laughs again, but there’s admiration in his eyes. “How did you decide you wanted to do that?”
“The idea started back in college although I didn’t swap out my corporate HR job for it until a few years ago when I saw how much fun Grant had getting his nonprofit off the ground.I wanted to be my own boss, too. I’m not the first person to become a dating coach, so I can’t claim the idea as my own, but I used to watch people flounder in the dating pool back in college. I always felt like I could have helped them out if they’d asked.”
He eyes me, the hint of a joke running across his face. “Let me guess, I inspired you?”
I laugh. “Yes, you did. Not because you were hopeless in dating, but because the friends I matched you up with were always dumbfounded that you didn’t stick around very long. I felt like they were all a bit desperate for you and nobody likes desperate.”
A deeper shade of amusement slides across his face while his mouth curls up.
“Go on,” he says, taking a long swig. He tips his chair back, looking pleased.
“I don’t necessarily mean that as a compliment though. I never saw you get in a serious relationship with anyone and I always wondered why.”
