Akira sighs, but her expression is still slightly pained. “Okay, I’m so sorry to have hijacked your date. I’m Akira, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get for you? The barbeque chicken special is my favorite.”
We order beers and pizza, and as Akira heads back to the kitchen, I turn back to Jack. “How often do you eat pizza and drink beer?”
“I’m not an alien,” he says. “I’m a New Yorker. I eat pizza almost weekly. Or at least monthly. And if I eat pizza, I’m drinking beer.”
“Weekly?” I ask.
“Probably less, now that Byron has met Rosey and Worth has met Sophia and Leo has Jules and Fisher has Juniper and Bennett has Efa.”
“All five of your friends have girlfriends?”
“Fiancées or wives,” he says.
“You’re the only one left?”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” he says.
He sounds like he’s saying that he’s no longer the one without a fiancée or a wife. But he can’t be saying that, right? I mean, we’ve known each other two minutes, and yes it feels like I’ve known him my entire life. It feels like he knows what I’m thinking. Yes, he can do things to my body that no man ever has. He’s kind and patient and…
“So tell me about the wife your mom wants for you?” I ask, trying to bring us back to reality.
He flashes me a cheeky, sexy grin that has me squeezing my legs together. “Wow, you really know how to destroy the vibe, don’t you?”
I laugh. “My specialty. But seriously, it’s weird for me that she’d be so involved in your love life.”
“She’s not. But not because she doesn’t want to be.”
“I’ve heard about arranged marriages back in the olden days or in other cultures. But in America, it seems so strange to me. Is it normal for… people like you? Families like yours?”
Jack glances down at the table, a gloomy expression on his face. “I don’t think anyone sees it as arranged marriage. There are expectations that people are consciously and subconsciously aware of. And then most people hang out with people who are similar to them, so bonds naturally form with acceptable people.”
“Acceptable,” I repeat. I definitely wouldn’t qualify as far as Jack’s mother’s concerned.
“It’s stupid,” Jack says. “And my mother knows that’s not how I think. That’s probably why she’s more invested than she should be.”
“She’s probably just looking out for you. Probably doesn’t want you marrying a gold-digger or something.”
Our eyes meet and things pass unsaid between us:
I’m not after your money.
I know you’re not.
“My father’s getting older. He and my mother want to see me settled. And…”
Jack doesn’t normally hold back with me, so his hesitation intrigues me. “And?”
“Well, I haven’t been so settled.”
Realization dawns. He’s a player.
“Right,” I say.
“I want to be honest with you. I don’t want there to be any surprises for you when you come to New York.”
It’s only Akira interrupting us with our pizzas that stops me shrieking. When have we ever talked about me going to New York?
“Smells good,” Jack says.
