“When Mickey Torres beat you,” she finishes, rolling her eyes. “It was six years ago, and I know you have that weird superstition that you lost because I wasn’t there, but he was more experienced, and that’s all there is to it. If I’d been there, I would have seen my best friend get beaten, and then you’d have suffered a blow to your pride and I’d have been upset.”
“It’s not a weird superstition,” I mutter. She’s my good luck charm, and she knows it. But frankly, I’m annoyed she brought up my one loss in front of Dr. Ken. “I’ll see you, then.”
I nod and go, before I can do or say anything more I regret.
6
Sydney
Maybe I’m sadistic, but as much as I care about Gabe, seeing him so wound up over me being out with someone else is really gratifying. Maybe it’s finally hitting home that I won’t wait around for him forever. I have my own life to live.
Ken shakes his head. “That guy is intense. What’s his deal?”
“He’s an old friend of mine,” I explain. “We grew up together.”
“Yourbestfriend, you said.”
The way he says it, I can’t tell whether it’s going to be a problem. No matter how badly I want to find love, I won’t be with someone who can’t handle my relationship with Gabe, so I need to know if it’s a deal-breaker.
“He’s a professional MMA fighter,” I say, as casually as I’d tell him that Gabe is a barista or an accountant. “In fact, he’s fighting tomorrow night. Why don’t you come with me?” If there’s one surefire way to test his mettle, it’s bringing him to watch my hot male best friend crush his opponent in the cage.
“Really?” His eyes light up. “That would be great. I don’t keep up with the UFC, but I love live sporting events. The atmosphere is always incredible.”
Okay, this guy is too good to be true. Not only is he willing to come despite Gabe giving him the scary glare, but he’s actually excited for it. I should have hearts in my eyes, but all I can think is… he isn’t Gabe. He’s handsome, clever, and determined, but I don’t ache for him to hold me, or yearn for his kiss. Maybe that will come with time.
Shortly after, our mains arrive. Ken eats carefully, dissecting everything he puts in his mouth. It’s a strange sight because I’m used to the boys from the gym digging into meals with gusto. But I suppose Ken is like me, and doesn’t often have time to exercise despite being on his feet all day. He needs to be more careful.
“Tell me what I don’t know about you,” I say after he declines the dessert menu—to my disappointment.
Steepling his fingers, he watches me over them. “I’m the oldest of three boys. Grew up in Chicago and moved here during high school after my mother and my stepfather met online.”
“Quite a change from Chicago to Vegas.”
He nods. “It was a big adjustment, but I love it here. Wouldn’t be anywhere else. What about you?”
“I’m a local, born and bred.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“No, it’s just me.” And thank God for that. I hate to think what would have happened if my parents had another child to ignore. They weren’t neglectful, per se. I always had food and shelter, but affection was another thing entirely. To this day, I’m not sure whether they love me, or if they just had a child because it was the appropriate thing to do at that particular stage of their life. I like to think I made it through my childhood without being too screwed up—although I admit to craving physical contact and approval more than other people seem to.
“You must be close to your parents, then,” he says, misreading me.
I laugh. “Quite the opposite. Actually, I used to pretend Gabe’s mom was my own.”
He doesn’t appear to know how to take this, and I’m not sure why I shared it, even though it’s true. The difference between my home and the Mendoza household, where his mother Valentina would bustle around in the kitchen while singing in Spanish, was stark. If I could have spent all of my time there, I would have.
“Anyway,” I say, to cover the awkwardness. “Isn’t it funny how we come from different backgrounds and still ended up in the same place? Life works in mysterious ways.”
“That it does.” He chinks his glass against mine, and we both drink. When he sets his glass down again, his expression is serious. “I have to ask, Sydney, why now? What made you decide to get back into the dating game?”
I sputter, choking on my drink. I wasn’t expecting such a direct question. “Honestly, I’m sick of being alone, and I finally figured out that if I want someone to spend my life with, I need to go and find them.” I hope I haven’t put him off by being too serious too fast. But then, if he doesn’t want a relationship, it’s probably best I know now. I don’t get that impression though. Something tells me he’s in this for the long haul. “What about you? What are you looking for, Ken?”
“That’s simple,” he replies, still watching me steadily. “I’m looking for a life partner.”
I stare at him, taken aback by his honesty.
“What?” The edges of his smile creep up. “Didn’t expect me to be so upfront about it?” He leans forward, reaching for my hand, and I turn it over so his palm rests on mine. “I’m here at this diner with you because I think there’s a real chance we could be a good match. Permanently. I need to know if you’re on the same page as me, or there’s no point in us seeing each other again. At least, not romantically.”
