“The baseball moms are not all bad—just slow to warm up to outsiders. Have they been mean to you?”
“Not mean. Just … a little aloof and cliquish.”
“Yeah. I recommend the book-club women.”
“I like them. Winona thinks you were checking me out tonight.”
“I heard. She’s not wrong.”
“So, the baseball moms aren’t all your exes—like in a club of ex-Greyson love interests or something?”
“Not one of them.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m an open book, Hallie.”
“Oh? That’s exactly how I’d describe you—especially when I first got here.”
“I’m an open book to you. Not in general. There’s a difference.”
“Okay, then. Tell me about all the women who mattered. I just want to know in case I’m being compared to one of them down the road by people around Waterford.”
“What makes you say I had women who mattered?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“What? You think I’m handsome?” I chuckle.
I know I’m not ugly, but I want to hear her say it.
“I think you’re gorgeous. And you’re shamelessly fishing for compliments. But regardless of your looks, you’re a firefighter with a servant heart. Granted, you could smile a little more often.”
“I smile plenty.”
“You do smile more than you used to. Greyson. Stop dancing around the subject. Who have you dated? For how long? Do they still live here in town?”
“No.”
“No, they don’t live here?”
“No, there weren’t any women.”
There. I told her.
“What? What does that mean?”
“It means I didn’t date women.”
“That can’t be right. No one?”
“No one.”
“Greyson. I’m not a jealous woman. Well, I take that back. I’d be one thousand percent jealous now if you showed interest in someone else. But I’m not jealous about a woman in your past.”
“You are the woman in my past.”
“I’m …” She pauses, the reality seeming to finally hit her. “You didn’t date anyone else?”
