“So you’ve been into dogs your whole life?”
Her nose wrinkles, and she nods. “Pretty much. Were you into hockey all your life?”
“Nah, I didn’t even know what hockey was when I was a kid.”
We’ve put our food containers aside, and now I’m leaning beside her against the bed. Gina has her hand on her stomach, looking up at me.
“Oh, that’s right! You wanted to be a baseball player.”
I shake my head. “When I was a little boy, I wanted to be a sheriff just like my dad.” She makes anawsound, and I nod. “I thought my dad was the greatest guy in the world.”
“Thought?” Her eyebrow arches.
“Sorry,think. He’s still the greatest guy in the world. I just meant, that’s how it was, just me and him.” I tilt the plastic bottle in my hand, remembering those days. “Then my stepmom Britt came along, and she taught me card tricks and magic, and he got really pissed.”
“Why?” Her eyes widen.
“After my mom died, he stopped believing in magic… and pretty much anything requiring faith.”
Her chin drops, and she circles a piece of grilled chicken in the bowl of hummus. “Is that how you feel?”
Her voice is quiet, and I think about the question.
“Sort of… but in a different way.” I scrub my fingers over my forehead, remembering all the times I blamed myself for what happened, for not noticing more. “I’m more in the realm of, you can never be too sure.”
“Tell me about it.” She sniffs, lifting her chin.
“What happened to you?” Then I realize how the question sounded, and I laugh. “I mean, who shook your faith?”
“I don’t know if that’s a fair way to say it.” She hesitates, looking down at the plate in her lap. “Maybe I misinterpreted the situation, read more into it than was there.”
“What did he do?” I realize an edge of anger has entered my tone.
I’m ready to find the dickhead who damaged her trust and… force him to apologize.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.” She puts her food container in the paper bag, turning away from me.
I reach out to put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t judge.”
She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip. After a momentary hesitation, she relents.
“When I first moved to LA from Newhope, I tried dating a few guys. They were all nice enough, but it seemed like once we slept together, they were ready to move on.”
“Jerks,” I mutter.
Her slim brow furrows, and she nods slowly. “So when I started dating Baxter, I decided not to sleep with him right away. Like I thought we should get to know each other better first.”
“Sounds smart.”
“So I set a number of dates I thought would give us the right amount of time…”
“A number?”
Bending her legs, she leans forward to put her forehead on her knees. “Stop, I realize now how I set myself up for it.”
“What was the number?”
“Six.”
