Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(13)

“I’m sorry, but that’s still an assholeish thing to do. So what if you’ve had one-night stands? That shouldn’t make any difference. I bet he’s had one-night stands. Why should he care who you’ve slept with?”

“I get it. I do. I’m—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence unless the next words out of your mouth are, ‘I’m sexy and fabulous, he’d be lucky to peel my grapes while wearing a loincloth.’”

My mouth formed a rueful line. “No. I do get it. The drugs, the stealing and shoplifting, living on the street, thinking only about myself. Sometimes I run into my old friends, the people I used to run with. They love that lifestyle and still thrive in it. Most of them, not all, have no responsibilities, no mission in life other than to get high and get laid. I can’t judge them because I’ve been there, and I know why I thought it made me happy for a time, but I wouldn’t want to be involved with any of them now. What I want now is so different.”

“Better.”

A familiar frustration made my throat tight; whenever I tried to explain this, explain my perspective on my past, I never felt like I had the right words. It was easy to sound like I hated the person I was, or that I was ashamed of my decisions. The world told me I should be ashamed. I hated certain parts of myself, some of the memories, and I was definitely ashamed of the stealing, though I’d worked hard to make restitution.

But everything else? I’d made mistakes. Big ones. Small ones. And I was trying to learn from them.

Choosing my words carefully, I focused my attention on the window behind him. “I don’t think it’s fair of me to say that what I want now is better in general. I can’t speak for other people, what brings them fulfillment. What I can say is, for me, it’s better. I’m happier.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about. All this wisdom.” He made a sweeping gesture to my whole person. “How can you still have a thing for someone who walked out on your amazingness? Why haven’t you moved on from him?”

A twinge of guilt and doubt had me pulling at the wrist of my cardigan. I was speaking as though I was an authority, but in truth I still had issues. Additionally, I had no experience with monogamy, only hopes for it. Hopes that it would help me rewrite the intimacy script I’d drafted in my head, leading to a healthier—for me—future.

“Anyway,”—I needed to get us back on track—“whatever his reason for leaving that morning, he left. After that, he’s never looked at me the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before Vegas, I felt sure he was interested. He used to give me . . . sexy eyes, you know?”

“I don’t know. So complete is your dedication to avoiding the man, I’ve never seen the two of you in the same room. But I get what you mean. And then after Vegas?”

“He stopped. He’s always been really nice, polite, friendly. But he’s never looked at me the same.”

“Maybe you haven’t given him a chance?”

“No. The way he looks at me now, it’s like he’s either overly polite, or irritated with me, like I annoy him.”

“And you’ve never talked to him about it? About what happened in Vegas?”

“No, you know how I was.”

“Was?”

“Come on, I’m not nearly as shy as I used to be.”

“Correct, you’re not as shy. You’re just exponentially more rigid and controlled.”

“That’s not true. Since I started seeing Dr. Kasai, I’m much better.”

“Fine. You’re much better. Please do go on, because you were just telling me how you never spoke to Dan about what happened between the two of you in Vegas.”

I ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “As you know, Dan started dating Tonya a few months later.”

“She’s nice.” Steven paired this with a reluctant smile. “I like her.”

“I know. And she’s smart. And really pretty.” I nodded, my heart hurting because my affinity for Tonya had been one of the worst parts of Dan dating her. I’d liked her before they’d dated, while they’d dated, and still, after they’d broken up.

“And she makes those lemon bars for the building’s Christmas party.” Steven pushed his bottom lip out in a little pout. “I hope she makes them this year. I always bring a bento box to stash them in and take extra from the tray.”

“She gave me the recipe.” I grimaced. “I don’t know why he broke up with her.”

“I have some suspicions.” Steven straightened in his seat. “But, oh well. He did. That ship has sailed. Which means he’s single and ready to mingle. Plus, I want to set her up with Carlos.”