Julien checked his watch. She was right. “Okay. Let’s see.” He tried to think of something interesting to tell her, but it was hard to think of something on the spot. “My favorite color is blue.”
She rolled her eyes. “I knew that. Well, at least I knew that it used to be blue. I guess it’s nice to know it hasn’t changed.” She propped her arm on the railing. “Try again.”
“Um. Oh! When I was sixteen, a wild boar chased me—”
“Up the oak tree in the backyard, where you were stranded for hours. My dad found you, and it took another fifteen minutes to convince you the boar was nowhere to be seen. You insisted on having pork chops for dinner.”
Julien stared at her. “How did you know that?”
She smirked up at him. “Try again.”
“My favorite ice cream flavor is—”
“Spumoni.”
Julien’s jaw dropped.
Martha laughed. “I think you’ve forgotten that we sort of grew up together, in a way.”
Which would mean he should know similar things about her, right? He thought about it, trying to see if he could recall any such facts. Nothing.
“Don’t worry.” Martha grinned. “It would probably be a little disturbing if you’d paid the same sort of attention to me as I did you back then.”
For some reason, Julien took that as a challenge. “You run your thumb back and forth over the curve of your fingertips when you’re nervous. And when you’re starting to get angry, your mouth puckers, creating four tiny lines above your top lip. For some reason, you always eat your food in a circular pattern on your plate, taking a bite of whatever is on the right side and then working your way clockwise.”
Martha stared at him, speechless. Maybe he shouldn’t havesaid anything. Shouldn’t have admitted how much he’d noticed about her since their reacquaintance.
“What happened with Lauren?” she surprised him further by asking. Surprised she even knew who Lauren was. Surprised she was taking the conversation there.
Should he answer? These sorts of topics were well outside the professional boundaries.
“She was frustrated that I never seemed to be able to give her the amount of attention that she needed,” he found himself saying anyway. “I was busy earning my MBA while also working full-time at the publishing house. She’d graduated but wasn’t really interested in finding a job, so she had a lot of time on her hands. Time she wanted me to devote to her. After a while, she grew bitter. She said that if I adored her as much as she deserved then I would’ve found a way to make her more of a priority. She called the wedding off after that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. In hindsight, I think she was right. Neither one of us loved the other to the degree that it takes to make a marriage work.” He leaned his forearm along the railing. “What about you? Why haven’t you ever married?”
Her gaze slid to the side, but even though the eye contact had broken, the moment hadn’t. Her shoulders rose and fell softly. “When you live in a small town, it’s hard to meet new people. I tried the dating apps thing for a bit, but I’m not exactly swipe-right material.”
Julien’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged again. “It’s just the way things are with a lot of guys.”
“What are you talking about?”
She met his gaze, pain in her own. “Are you really going to make me spell it out?”
“You’re going to have to, because I don’t have a clue what you’re trying to say.”
A huff of disbelief escaped her lips. “My size, Julien. I’m thicker than an unabridged dictionary and, in my experience, a lot of guys on those apps prefer a slim little novella.”
His first reaction was to laugh at her comparison, but then he heard what she was saying. His mood did a one-eighty.
“It’s fine. I like words and appreciate all their definitions.” She looked up at him. “In case you aren’t following my metaphor, I’m saying I don’t hate my body. I’m just stating facts, and the facts are that—”
“Martha,” he cut her off, “you’re fired.”
Her head reared back. “Excuse me?”
