I swallow. “I…said what now?”
“You told me your parents always put you in the middle of their—their relationship problems, and you were mad that I did the same to you with Jake.”
Bloody hell.
“You don’t remember, do you?” she presses.
“I am unfortunately rather more affected by bubbly than I’d like to be.”
“Which means what, exactly? That you lie when you’re drunk, or that you told me the truth and just don’t remember so you’re trying to butter me up to ask me what else you said?”
The world is spinning.
The world is spinning with the fact that there is no good answer to that question.
I could lie and tell her I’m being kind merely because I appreciate her kindness from last night.
I could tell her a partial truth, that I don’t remember, but I’m not attempting to butter her up so that she’ll tell me more.
Or I could tell her the full truth—that I am absolutely enamored with her story, with her life, withher, and that I’d like to get to know her better, and to hell with being angry about last night.
I dislike being angry.
But I like Bea.
And I dislike that I like Bea, because the last time I let myself like a woman—well, I don’t regret the boys, but I certainly hope I learned my lesson.
“Hey, mister, win a teddy bear for your lady?” A man under a tent holds out a ping-pong ball. Rows of goldfish bowls are lined on the table behind him. “Sink this in a bowl, and you can have your pick of teddy bears for your lady.”
“I’m not—” Bea starts, but I cut her off by slipping an arm around her waist.
She glances up at me sharply.
Likely because I haven’t answered her question.
And I’m well aware that not answering and touching her is kind of its own answer.
“Is that all it takes?” I inquire of the man.
He flashes a smile at me. “Harder than it looks.”
I glance down the row of games, where my boys have stepped back into the line for musical chairs.
“I rather doubt that,” I declare. “Bea, would you like a teddy bear?”
She’s still looking at me.
Possibly calling me a chicken for not answering her question.
But it’s answered one of mine.
What did I say last night?
Entirely too much.
“She doesn’t think you can do it,” the guy calls to me.
“I certainly can’t if I don’t attempt it,” I reply.
