“Riiight,” Matty says, stretching the word out. “You’re staying ’cause ofMorocco.”
He gives me an exaggerated wink afterward, and I realize he’s talking about Thomas. My eyes stray toward him automatically. He’s sitting in a lawn chair a little ways away, chatting with Hunter. Heather and Hunter set us up a couple of weeks ago, and we’ve been out a few times now. He’s in school to become a veterinarian, and he’s really funny and handsome and clever. He’s exactly the type of guy I should be dating—and I’m going to end things with him after this party.
I feel really awkward about it, although Hunter and Heather have both assured me it’ll be okay. Among Thomas’ many redeeming qualities is how understanding he is. He understood when we couldn’t go anywhere public on our dates, and when I asked himnot to post any photos of us online, and I’m sure he’ll understand when I end things.
But, still. It’s awkward.
I have a drink to try to settle my nerves, but my palms are still prickling when I ask him if we can talk privately. Some people are starting to head home, while others are talking about moving the party to a pub down the street.
“Are you okay?” he asks, as we step into Heather’s bedroom. “You seem a bit squirrelly.”
I hesitate, and he immediately seems to realize what’s going on.
“Ah.” His mouth twists into a wry sort of smile. “This is the talk.”
My cheeks redden. “It has nothing to do with you,” I say hurriedly.
He snorts. “That’s a bit of a cliché. It’s not you, it’s me.”
I manage a thin laugh. “I know. It’s true, though.”
He tilts his head and studies me thoughtfully. “Have you developed some sort of allergy to super cool people?”
I crack a smile. “No. I’m just... not over my ex.”
“Ahh.” Thomas nods wisely. “The mysterious ex I’ve heard so little about. That bastard.”
“I really thought I was over it.” (And okay, that’s sort of a lie.) “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever love again.”
I chuckle. “Of course. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I imagine I’ll slowly waste away from grief and consumption, and then someone will write a depressing novel about me, and I’ll die famous. So that’s a plus.”
“I’ll make sure to buy a copy of it.”
“You’d better.” He smiles again, but this time I see a trace of genuine sadness in his eyes. I feel a stab of regret. He really is a great guy.
“You really are a great guy,” I say out loud. “I’ll probably be kicking myself for this in a month.”
“Nah.” Thomas squeezes my shoulder. “We just weren’t meant to be. And hey, we can still be friends. And not in that fake ‘let’s say we’ll be friends but in reality never speak again’ way. Actual friends.”
My mouth curves up. “I’d like that.”
“And in forty years, when my kids are watching some boring documentary about F1, and they talk about the really hot guy who won a hundred championships, I’m going to say to them, Kids, you know what? I very nearly fucked that guy.”
I let out a startled snort of laughter. “You’re going to say that to your kids?”
“Obviously.” He steps forward and hugs me, kissing my cheek before he pulls away. “Let’s go get drunk now, yes? I assume Heather and Hunter knew this was going to go down?”
“Um... maybe,” I admit.
He groans. “Wonderful. Tell you what, I’ll forgive you if you cheat with me so that Hunter loses all the drinking games.”
I smile at him. In forty years, wherever I am, I’m definitely going to remember him as the nicest guy I ever broke up with.
“Deal,” I agree.
