Page 11 of Unrealistic Expectations

Jessica should tell him to leave. Right now. She’d already embarrassed herself last night by kissing him—and then whatever else they’d done. She’d always known that there was more of her mother in her than she wanted there to be. But she’d always been careful not to indulge that side of herself. She’d carefully considered every guy she’d ever hooked up with, and she’d settled on Luke as a suitable long-term partner.

And she didn’t look at settling as a bad thing. People often made compromises—in partners, jobs, places to live—and mostly were able to convince themselves that they wanted what they had settled for because what they had settled for was good for them. Luke leaving and her running into Galvin had forced Jessica to see all the places that she’d settled in her life.

She looked around the apartment she’d shared with Luke. She hated the stark, modern lines of the place. There was no color, no personality. She wanted warmth and color and soft, cozy furniture that she could sink into. Before they bought this place, she’d wanted to move into a cozy little Spanish-style Hancock Park bungalow. All the doorways had been arched, and the floors had been a dark, rich color. The kitchen had been light and airy but tiled in an almost shocking blue.

But Luke had hated it and said that it would be impossible to keep clean. Jessica had agreed because the color and warmth were probably only attractive to her because it had mimicked her mother’s personal style. And she’d trained herself to turn away from anything that her mother might find attractive.

Like Galvin. Her mother would think he was the most gorgeous man to ever walk the earth. She would be right, because he was even gorgeous moments away from keeling over from a hangover, in rumpled clothes. She’d lied a few moments ago when she’d told him that he didn’t smell good. He smelled great—like, she would have wanted to wake up to that smell in her pillows—and that terrified her. She shouldn’t have offered to make him breakfast.

But, then again, he hadn’t been terribly put out when she had told him to keep his boxer briefs on the night before. The kissing and touching had probably been more about humoring an old friend going through a breakup than any lust for her on his part. He was probably only staying now because she would feed him before sending him on his way.

“I’ll make some eggs.” She moved to get the eggs, but he stopped her by standing between her and the refrigerator.

“Do you want eggs?”

She ignored the heat coming off his body. “I eat eggs for breakfast every day.”

“Why?”

He was starting to irritate her now. “They’re good for you. High in protein, and they keep me full.”

“But do you like them?”

She didn’t not like them, but that wasn’t the only thing that mattered. She couldn’t count the number of mornings she woke up wanting a chocolate croissant but went ahead and ate eggs instead. Because the chocolate croissant would taste good in the moment, but it wouldn’t satisfy her long-term. Galvin was a chocolate croissant. He had tasted good last night, but now she only wanted more. And he wasn’t the type of man who could ever sit still and satisfy her real needs. He probably did all of the things that she told men not to do in her book, but he’d gotten away with it until recently because the package was just so pretty.

She should really give him just a little bit more credit. It wasn’t just that he looked pretty. He had a great deal of charm. Like just now, the way he was looking at her made her want to say, “Fuck the eggs. Fuck me. And then let’s get a dozen doughnuts and eat them in bed before you fuck me again.”

“Eggs are all I have in the house.” She had to shut this down before she said any of the things in her head. She didn’t really mean any of them. She didn’t really want him. Her nervous system was just completely shot from everything that had happened in the last few days.

“I can get you something else,” he said, and she knew he was trying to be helpful and accommodating. She shouldn’t find it sexy that he was arguing with her over breakfast, but she found she liked the friction.

It made her skin tingle that today wasn’t like every other day.

The amazing thing about being in a relationship for fifteen years was that she’d felt a kind of security with Luke that she’d never had in childhood and adolescence. And that security had reconfigured her into the type of person who liked knowing what was going to happen next. She wasn’t the kind of person who craved novelty and excitement in anything but the safest and most predictable ways.

She wasn’t her mother’s daughter. She knew better than to fall under the spell of a fuckboy. But she was dangerously close to letting herself investigate her attraction to Galvin Baker in a very hands-on way.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, trying to sound just a little bit imperious. “If you want something other than eggs, you’re welcome to go find it elsewhere.”

Instead of having the desired effect of pushing Galvin out the door, her comment made him smile and roll his eyes. “Like you said last night, I’m not one of your patients. And I’m not a child. I know I could walk out the door and have last night be just a weird thing that happened between two old friends who ran into each other when we were both in a weird place.”

“I think that’s exactly how we should both look back at it,” Jessica said. “Fondly. From a distance.” The last thing she needed was a crush on someone like him, but he would probably be flattered if she told him all the things about him that were wrong for her. Those things were precisely what made him so attractive, and he knew it—despite his current minor crisis in confidence.

But, instead of leaving, he came closer to her—not encroaching into her space too much, but just enough. He’d probably been so successful with women in the past because he could read body language. And Jessica didn’t need multiple graduate degrees in psychology to know she was throwing off “skittish” as a whole vibe. He knew not to make any sudden movements.

“I don’t actually think you want that.”

“So, you’re mansplaining my feelings now?”

“No.” He sighed, heavily. He was going to give up and leave, and she would never have to deal with the way he made her tummy flip over ever again. “I had fun last night.”

“Waking up on a strange woman’s bathroom floor is your idea of fun?”

“Not really. But kissing a beautiful woman who happens to be an old friend is.” She must have made a face when he said “beautiful,” because she didn’t like when people noticed how she looked. “Waking up on the floor was probably not the best thing for my aging back, but the way you looked at me last night is going to put a spring in my step.”

“Does that kind of bullshit line usually work for you?” There was no amount of charming eye twinkling that could overcome the corniness of that line.

“I’m not trying to work you. I’m trying to open your mind to the wide world of breakfast pastry.”

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