“A rake is a person of low moral character.”
“I’m not judging,” I say. “I’ve also had my share of someones. I’m trying to understand. I assumed you…”
Had a lot of sex with a lot of different people. While I make it a point not to think too hard about George’s sex life, I figured hookups were one way he burned off all of his energy. It’s not like I don’t have evidence to support my theory. I once came home early from my shift and found him on our couch with two women who were very annoyed I’d interrupted whatever was about to happen. I’veheardhim have sex.
“I assumed you wanted to be more or less unattached,” I say.
“You’re the one who swore she’d never get married,” he says, his brow quirking. “Multiple times, I might add.”
“I should have stuck to that.”
I used to believe that a serious relationship would tie me down, distract me from what I wanted, the way it did for my mom. I could imagine falling in love and losing myself within another person the way she did—then waking up one day panicked about everything I’d missed out on.
For my mom, it was her chance to return to the ocean, to breathe the salt air that felt like home, and to work to save the North Atlantic right whales she so adored. She ended up hurting the people she loved to reclaim the part of herself she’d given up. I never wanted to do that.
“I, on the other hand,” George says, “am much more old-fashioned.” His eyes hold mine. “I’ve always known there was only one person for me, one person who I’d be grateful to tie my life to.”
It’s an effort to keep my jaw firmly clamped.
“Why now? You’ve shown no interest in committing before.”
“That’s not true,” George says. “Lara and I were together for almost a year.”
Okay, that’s longer than I thought. “You were? As acouplecouple?”
“Frankie, I brought her to your dinner party and introduced her as my girlfriend.”
“I’ve always thought you used the term loosely, like as a euphemism.”
“It wasn’t a euphemism. She was, in fact, my girlfriend.”
“But you broke up with her. You always break up with them.” Better to leave first than get left behind.
“You say that like it’s easy. It’s brutal to enter a relationship full of hope and then realize it’s not working, nor was it ever going to work. Breaking up with someone is awful.”
“You can forgive me for not feeling very sympathetic right now.”
“I don’t have any sympathy for Nate,” he says.
“Good.”
I take his glasses off his face and clean them on the blanket.
“How can you stand them like this?” I ask, blowing and then wiping, holding the lenses up to the light, and blowing again. I’m not sure why I feel so agitated.
“I think they’re clean now, Frankie,” George says after watching me repeat the process half a dozen times.
In that wisp of time, I lift my gaze to his and realize that I have looked at George’s eyes hundreds of thousands of times before, but I’ve never really stopped to appreciate how truly astounding the deep blue of his irises really is. How electric the lighter blue is that rings his pupils. I see myself reflected in those black orbs, as if floating in a tempestuous ocean.
“Frankie?”
My gaze drops to George’s mouth. I’ve never paid much attention to it, either. His top lip is almost a flat line. It’s why his smile can seem so acerbic—his grin pulls it even straighter, like it is now. The bottom one is much fuller, the poutier of the two. It juts out when he’s thinking. When he’s making his broody face. I’ve kissed this mouth once, and it was a colossal mistake.
His lips part. I snap to attention and set George’s glasses on his face. I do it cautiously and quickly, not meeting his eyes. But even still, I feel his breath against my wrist. I feel his gaze on my face. I feel his curls skimming against my knuckles as I place the arms of his glasses behind his ears. When we were kids, his buzz cut grew into thick, turbulent waves, and he’d call me out for staring or get annoyed when I couldn’t contain myself and reached out to touch them.
“If you want a partner, it’ll happen,” I say. When George decides to go after something, he never fails. “You’ll find her.”
“Or,” he says, “maybe she’ll find me.”
