She was trying. In her own weird, overly-organized, completely misguided way, she was trying to be what she thought I wanted.
"Hey." I pull her into a hug. She stiffens for a second, then relaxes against me. "You don't need to be embarrassed."
"I showed you a strap-on over pasta."
"That was definitely a choice." I feel her laugh against my chest despite the tears. "But you were trying to be prepared. That's not inherently bad."
"It's not?"
"The execution was questionable. But the intention was good."
She pulls back, looking up at me. Her eyes are still wet with tears. "You're not mad?"
"I'm not mad." Confused, yes. Suspicious, maybe. But not mad. "Just promise me no more schedules."
"No more schedules," she agrees quickly. "And no more PowerPoint presentations?"
"Definitely no more PowerPoint presentations."
"What about the honeymoon research? Should I—"
"Liana. No swingers resorts."
"Right. Okay. Got it." She wipes her eyes one more time. "Can we just pretend tonight didn't happen?"
"I don't think I'll ever forget tonight."
"That's what I was afraid of." She picks up her tote bag again. "I should really go now."
"You forgot your laptop."
"Oh! Right." She looks at it still sitting on the table. "Can I just pick it up tomorrow? I don't want to carry it right now."
"Sure."
"Thank you." She gives me a watery smile. "And Santo? I really am sorry. About all of it."
"I know you are."
She kisses my cheek—quick and soft—then leaves without another word.
I stand in my doorway, watching her walk down the hall to the elevator. When the elevator doors close behind her, I go back inside.
The apartment feels quiet. The laptop is still on the table. The PowerPoint still open on the screen.
I look at it. At the color-coded calendar. At the detailed schedule she put together with obvious care.
She cried. Real tears. Real embarrassment.
Which means either she's genuinely that clueless about how relationships work, or...
Or she's an incredible actress.
I sit down, staring at the schedule on the screen. Tuesday at 9am. Who suggests Tuesday at 9am for sex?
Someone who has no idea what they're doing.
Or someone who knows exactly what they're doing.
