“Somebody different from my ex-boyfriend,” I pronounce. I don’t even wait for Will to inquire; I just tell him. “He loved to play sports, watch sports, talk about sports. And he loved to plan our weekends and vacations around sports—which was fine sometimes, but there wasn’t room for anything else, for anything I wanted to do or see or visit. And I didn’t ever tell him I felt that way, so it was partially my fault. Clay was thoughtful in all the usual ways. I got flowers on Valentine’s Day and jewelry on my birthday, but he never once gave me a personal gift, something that screamed,I thought of you when I purchased this.He would tell me when he thought I looked especially pretty and ask me about my day. He was by and large a good guy.”
“But he wasn’t good foryou.”
I tip my cup back, send the rest of my beer down my throat. “We weren’t good for each other. Our relationship was too passive. It ended the exact same way it began, and I get the feeling relationships aren’t supposed to be like that. Shouldn’t they change, adapt to the growth of each individual, and also to the couple as a unit?”
Will nods his agreement. “Should be dynamic. A healthy relationship, anyway.”
“Exactly. When he got the opportunity to move, I told him to go. And I told him I needed to stay because I was building Revenant in Austin, and I didn’t even want to consider relocating. And we just… dissipated, like fog when the sun rises.”
Will watches me. “You’re saying if you had the time, you would date someone you don’t feel passive about.”
“I would date someone I’m obsessed with,” I clarify, heart in my throat.
“Someone you’d change your plans for.”
“Someone who makes every other worldly thing pale in comparison. Someone who matters to me more than the rest of it. Someone who storms into my life and turns everything upside down. Someone I can’t keep myself from.”
The sunlight halos him. Will’s eyes get bluer. I think of the rules we keep breaking. The excuses we keep making. Even this “deal” tonight is just a way to keep talking guilt-free.
Brooks reappears then with an armful of fresh beers. He sits and cracks them open for us. Will and I pass over our empty cups so he can top us off.
“Made those shrimp my bitch,” he says. “Thanks for babysitting.”
“Marshall is perfect,” I say.
“Do you want kids?” Brooks asks me. But his eyes track to Will.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
I’ve given more thought to Will as a father in the last ten minutes than to myself as a mother over the course of my whole life.
“Want to know a secret?” Brooks grins wickedly. “Right this second, Grant is imagining getting you pregnant.”
“If your spawn wasn’t asleep on me, I would end you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
After the sun fades and Camila plugs in the twinkle lights that span the backyard, Brooks packs himself a to-go container of food and bids us farewell to put his son to bed. Leonie slips an icy glass of white sangria into my palm. I fish out a piece of apple and suck on it. Will and I have migrated to the line of people waiting for the buffet of garlic-inspired dishes. The music has been turned up in direct accordance with the rowdier, alcohol-bolstered voices. The coolness of the evening sends tiny shivers up my skin, and I can feel tightness from sun exposure in my cheeks every time I smile.
“Will you be eating meat this evening?” Will asks as we pick up paper plates and diverge to opposite sides of the long serving table.
“Not intentionally. Though that steak with chimichurri does look amazing.”
“Brooks’s shrimp.” Will picks up a pair of tongs and grabs a few, adding them to his plate.
“No poopy veins in sight,” I say.
“I’ll be the judge of that, aspiring vegetarian.”
“What if, for tonight, I was an aspiringpescatarian?”
“That’s between you and your god.”
I shrug, grabbing a single shrimp. “Lack of self-control around meat. Add it to the list of the worst things about me.”
We move forward in the line, and Will says, “Just because I’m giving you my list doesn’t mean you have to give me yours.”
“It’s only fair.”
