Page 54 of Pure Abandon

“Can I know the reason?”

Alex thinks about this for a moment. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I have spoken entirely too much about myself today. We’re done talking about me. Now about you…”

Slowly unwrapping my sandwich, I look down at my lap and try to think of something interesting to say about myself. I don’t play any instruments or have my own charitable foundations. I don’t own a company, nor am I well versed in culture, history, and the arts.

Asher notices the expression on my face. “You are fascinating to me. You know this. I want to know you better.”

I take a bite of my sandwich and ponder what I could possibly talk about. The truth is… “I am so boring I can’t think of a thing to say.”

Shaking his head again, Asher places his fingers on my chin and raises them to meet his gaze. “Fascinating.” A singular word departs from his lips. I could answer that comment with a single word myself—mesmerizing.

“Okay, then.” He chides, “If you aren’t going to freely give up any information, I will ask the questions.”

I open my mouth to begin to protest, but Asher answers my concern in time. “I promise not to ask a single question about your husband.”

My shoulders relax and I nod in approval.

“Since being friends seems to interest you so much, who are your friends?”

Ugh, a dreaded question. “Well, Malory is probably my best friend, although I don’t see her that often or talk to her as much as I’d like.” Come to think of it, she’s a weak excuse for a best friend. Lately, every time I’m around her, I’m either insulted by something or uncomfortable with one of her comments.

“Malory is your best friend?” This time Asher is shocked.

“Yeah, well, I guess. I don’t have a lot of female friends. I mean, I do, but as a kid, I grew up all over the country, traveling with my dad, and then I went to college in Maryland and all my sorority sisters went on to live in Virginia, California, Florida… Not too many came to New York, and the ones who did, well, they lead a different lifestyle than the one I wanted.”

“Park Avenue princesses?” Asher nods in understanding. “I know a few of those.”

“We tried city living, but I guess I just don’t fit in. I don’t have the clothes or the attitude to keep up. I always felt inferior in some way. I wanted the house on Long Island, kids, vacations… something simple.” What am I saying? “Am I rambling?”

“No, I just didn't take you for the maternal type,” Asher says. “So what about the women of Long Island? Do you have any friends there?”

“No.” I swallow another bite of my sandwich. “I don’t fit in there either. I’m not built to be a coupon-cutting, high-waist jean-wearing woman who stays home all day.” I take a breath. “Truth is I never felt more displaced in my life. It’s like I’m riding on the border of two countries yet have citizenship in neither. It’s a terrible feeling.” One that up until this moment I hadn’t realized.

Asher takes in what I just said and digests it. He also seems to understand I’m evaluating these feelings as well. Thankfully, he changes the topic. “You said you traveled a lot with your dad. What did he do?”

“He was a baseball player,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Like a major league baseball player?”

“Yup,” I say, taking a final bite of my baguette.

I watch Asher’s face out the corner of my eye as he studies me, and I can see the wheels in motion. “Is your dad Catch Grayson?”

I swallow and nod at him.

“Really? This entire time I’ve had Catch Grayson’s daughter working for me and I didn’t even know it?”

“Since you’re not a sports guy, I would have assumed it didn’t matter if my dad were Mickey Mantle.”

“I may not like to play company softball, but I am definitely a baseball fan. I am a red-blooded male, you know?” He chides. As if I hadn’t noticed his maleness.

“Dad played in Texas and then for the Reds before we settled here in New York when he played for the Mets. He was… amazing.”

“And your mom?”