Page 8 of A Me and Him Thing
“My guess is an hour.” I let out my breath, accepting my fate.
“Might be optimistic.”
“Delusions are how I survive reality.” I suddenly realize that’s my truth, my existence.
“Reality is overrated. By the way, if you could let my boss know I did this, I might get the promotion I’ve been hoping for.He likes good customer service.” His half smile makes another appearance.
“You are incorrigible.” I’m positive, even after knowing him for only one evening.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Hmm. All these years my mother’s been insulting me, and I didn’t even know it.”
The interior of the car is dead silent for just a moment before brief laughter escapes my lips. I can’t help myself. He’s the comeback king. I have met my match. He joins me, a chesty, deep man-laugh. Not too loud. Very pleasant.
I’m enjoying our wordplay. After all, I could use a little laughter in my life. “Hey, thanks for waiting with me. Appreciate it.”
“You bet.”
“It’s nice to not be alone in a nearly deserted parking lot in the middle of the night.” There’s a difference between independent and foolish.
“Why are you, if you don’t mind my asking? I know the question is cliché, but I’ll ask it anyway. What’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?”
I hesitate. I don’t know why, but that question always makes me burn inside.
“What’s wrong with being alone, and why does it drive men crazy when a woman chooses to be alone?” I’m independent and proud of it.
Or maybe I’m just alone.
“Sensitive topic much?”
“No,” I say firmly. Then I glance at him and amend my answer. “Yes.”
He dons his half smile. “We don’t have to talk about it. The thing is, I’ve never seen anyone in my restaurant looking so sadand defeated. It made me want to make you smile. Epic fail, but I tried.” His words glide like a skater on ice.
“I was smiling on the inside.”
“You were?”
“Yep. I guess I love your cheesy wit. Didn’t know that about myself.”
He pretends as though I just stabbed him in the heart. “I’m so devastated.”
I ignore his theatrics.
“What’s your story, Bree? Why so glum?”
He makes me want to tell him my life story. “My story is long and sad.”
“I have about twenty minutes. Can you talk fast?”
I laugh again, and it feels good. It makes me realize I’ve been much too maudlin lately, a subdued version of myself. I need to snap out of it. In my defense, I did recently spend a lot of time with a man who was so filled with grief he couldn’t see straight. He never really saw me, that’s for sure. I was just accessible. Sure wish I would’ve realized that sooner.
Ren turns in his seat, his demeanor now serious. “Hey, sometimes talking to a stranger is therapeutic.” His voice coaxes, persuades. “By morning, I’ll be a distant memory.”
Why does a flash of disappointment wash through me at the thought?
