Page 14 of A Me and Him Thing
The waitress brings our food, and my mouth waters in anticipation. Good food and good conversation. This is nice. I needn’t have worried we’d have nothing to talk about.
Ren drizzles blueberry syrup on his pancakes. “Tell me about you, Bree. Not about your heartache. About you, the real you.”
The real me.
He’s right. What happened with Sawyer and Quinn does not define me. There’s so much more to me.
This type of question makes me nervous, though. It always leads to “What are your hopes and dreams?” I can’t provide the typical American dream I assume most men want, and I dread the conversation. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Anything. Whatever you’re willing to divulge.”
“Okay.” Here goes nothing. “Bree is short for Breanna. My last name is Kingston. I’m thirty-two. I have a master’s in business management. I’m the financial manager for a successful advertising agency. My job is to help them meet their long-term financial goals. Are you bored yet?”
He chuckles, letting me know he’s listening. “Not at all. Can I hire you to work for my restaurant?”
“Your restaurant is extremely successful.”
“Only after a whole lot of hard work, very long hours, and no life.” He smirks. “Seriously, who needs sleep?”
“You do.” I take a bite of buttery pancake with crisp edges, and it practically melts in my mouth. I’m going to visit this place again, guaranteed. “Not sure I could help any. You clearly have a good business model, but I’ll give you my two cents if you’d like.”
“I might take you up on that. Another opinion is always helpful. Do you have family in Portland?”
Bedroom voice. That’s what he has. He always sounds like he just woke up, except he speaks succinctly. I’ve finally nailed it. It’s been niggling at me all night.
Okay, family in Portland. This is safe territory. “No, I was raised by a single mom who ventured out to the West Coast all on her own. She taught me how to be tough, tenacious, strong, and independent. She taught me to never be a shrinking violet, but to voice my opinion and never back down. She said if I ever found myself in a fight-or-flight situation to always fight. Never back down. She always said my red hair was a warning to the world to look out. She didn’t need a man, didn’t even want one. My father skipped out on her just after I was born. It was me and her against the world. She passed five years ago, and I miss her like crazy. She was amazing.”
“Hmm,” Ren says between bites of pancake. “That explains your Scarlett characteristics. You were raised to be the way you are. You shouldn’t apologize for being a strong woman.”
“I’m not, and I never will.” I hadn’t thought of it quite like that. “But sometimes I’m too much. Sometimes I go overboard. I like to be in control, and I’m too bossy.” Wow. All of my defenses have come crumbling down. This man knows my worst faults.
“Where does your extended family live?” Ren asks.
“I have a few distant relatives back East. Never met them. We don’t communicate.”
Ren hesitates. “So you’re alone here?”
I look down at the table trying to hide the pain that must be evident in my eyes. Why did I think this subject was safe? “Yeah, I guess I am. My job keeps me busy and active, though. It’s not so bad.” Such a lie.
You know what? I might as well get it all out in the open from the get-go. He’ll know the good, the bad, and the ugly. “I can’t have children,” I blurt. “At least, the odds are very low. I have severe endometriosis.” I look him straight in the eyes. “The door’s behind me and to the right.”
He stills, but his face doesn’t register shock the way I thought it would. “Is that usually a deal-breaker?”
I let my breath out. “Yes, all the time.” I pause. “Is it for you? I’m not insinuating that anything will ever happen between us or that I see us married or anything. I just want to have this conversation up front, get it out of the way. Before our friendship goes any further.”
“No, it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”
That’s either wonderful or a huge red flag. “May I ask why not?”
“I already have two children. A girl and a boy. They’re seven and nine. Jack and Jill.”
“Seriously?”
He releases a pleasant laugh. “No. Kate and Ethan.”
“You live up to your sticky label.”
He laughs again, this time deep and throaty. The sound makes me feel tingly. Tingling is forbidden right now.
