“Annoyed? Why?”
“Well... because...” I struggle to find a reason. It’s not like I was looking for a life partner. “They’re supposed to likeus, not each other.”
“Nah, I’m happy for them,” he says. “They seem like a good fit.”
He’s not wrong.
I’m not a cat person.
“Is this how it works for you?” I ask.
“How what works?”
“Dating with no strings, or expectations, or interest,” I say, like I’m moving pieces of a puzzle around on a table to see what will snap in place.
Miles stops chewing, seemingly considering the question, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess this is how it works.”
“You don’t feel rejected?”
“Rejected? Number one, she’s not my type. Number two, I’m not that deep, Claire,” he says.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
“Nope.”
He leans forward, and my whole body is caught by his gaze.
I clear my throat. “I think you go out with these women—random people you’re not really interested in—so you aren’t stuck at home, feeling lonely or whatever, but you do it to make sure there’s no chance you’ll ever get hurt again.”
He leans back, folding his arms. “Is that your professional opinion?”
I pop another bite of sushi into my mouth and nod. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.” He picks up his glass and takes a drink, eyes locked onto mine.
I shake my head, refusing to be the first one to look away.
He reaches for Daphne’s plate and sets it on top of his empty one. “What makes you think I’ve been hurt?”
“Haven’t you?”
He shifts, deflecting with humor. “I’m a guy, Claire. We push our feelingswaydown, and we don’t ever talk about them.”
“Oh, well,that’shealthy,” I quip.
He shrugs, like,Eh, it works for me.
He holds up another piece to me, offering. I tilt my head, sigh, and take it.
He then takes the last piece off of Daphne’s plate and raises it like a toast.
“To cat people.” He nods at the food in my hand with a loose grin.
At that, I smile, and we tap the last of the rolls together in a mockclinkand eat at the same time.
Two things are true for me in this moment.
