“Have I gotten that bad?” I ask, guilt sinking deeper into every word.
He flashes me a reassuring smile and wraps noodles around the prongs of his fork. “No. I just know you’ve been swamped. That’s why you’re getting home after midnight, nearing starvation status.”
“Actually, my date is to blame for at least half of my issues tonight.” That and the Ford guardianship case, which I don’t want to talk about right now.
“Oh, that’s right. You were out with Henry, right? I’m assuming he didn’t make a good impression?” The corners of his lips curl around his fork.
I glare. “I’m not accepting any more of your blind dates. Where are you even finding these guys?”
“Oh . . . he mentioned fasting, didn’t he?”
“No shit!” I dig my elbow into his bicep and scowl, getting flashbacks. “That and how he’s about to go on a ‘cut.’”
Finn makes a rough noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, alright? Truthfully, he was Wes’ pick.”
Wesley Hayes is the catcher for the Havoc and Finn’s closest friend. Outside of me, of course. I swallow a bite of noodles and sink deeper into the couch, stretching my toes out before they cramp from being trapped in heels all day.
“And that’s the last time Wesley gets any say in my love life.”
“You could always try to find a guy the old-fashioned way,” Finn suggests, scratching at the mustache he’s been growing out above his top lip. “Or just let it go for a while.”
I stab my fork into my chow mien, nearly growling. “I shouldn’t have to let it go. Dating can’t honestly be this difficult.” Finn’s immediate silence grates on me. I point my fork at him. “What?”
“Okay, so Henry was clearly not your type. I’ll give Wes hell for that tomorrow. But did you give him a chance to surprise you? Maybe he wasn’t as shitty as you thought initially.”
“Come on. Of course you’re saying that now. You didn’t hear his enlightening argument about why therapy is a hoax that hesees right through.” I use air quotes when I say the last three words, blinking deadpan.
Finn winces and pushes his messy blond hair back. “Alright, fair enough.”
“Exactly.”
“But—” He looks at me pointedly. “You have to admit that you’re not the nicest when it comes to dating.”
“If you say something about me not smiling enough, you’re going to be leaving here with noodles in your hair.”
His low laugh curls in the air around us, as comforting as it is annoying. “You know that isn’t what I was going to say. I just mean that you can be pretty judgy when it comes to men.”
“Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”
“Not even close. You’ve got every reason to be cautious. I just think that sometimes you search for the worst in your dates, and that could be limiting your success rate a bit.”
Yeah, I’ll give him that one. He’s notentirelywrong. I’ve come to that conclusion myself over these last few weeks, but hearing it from my best friend feels worse.
“Have I ever told you that it’s annoying you know me so well?” I grumble, finished with my food.
Dropping my head against the couch, I stare at the ceiling and chew on my lip, tapping on the armrest. Finn’s been my best friend for the last twenty years. We’ve been attached at the hip since we met in the second grade. He went to college here in Vancouver when he had his pick of any in the country and outside of it, even, while I did the same. When the Havoc draftedhim, it was like the stars aligned, ensuring he wouldn’t have to leave me. Then I found my job at the firm, and the rest is history.
It isn’t even slightly surprising that he knows how to pick apart every single one of my issues so easily.
“I’m not sure I’m capable of being nicer to men,” I admit stiffly.
“Maybe nicer isn’t the right term. How about . . . a bit more patient? Like you are with me and the team.”
“That’s not a fair comparison. I am actually nicer to all of you, and for good reason. You’re not like the men I’ve been going on dates with.”
He smirks smugly. “I know.”
“Don’t smile like that. It’s creepy.”
