Page 50 of Happy After All

“I really can’t think of a good reason to say no to you, Amelia,” he says.

I’m never going to get tired of hearing him say my name.

“That must devastate you,” I say.

“You have no idea.” He takes another sip of the margarita. “You really don’t.”

“I appreciate this.”

“Don’t be grateful to me,” he says. “Please. I can’t stand it. I’m not actually that great, and I certainly haven’t been that great to you, so don’t go thanking me for doing something that’s really just my job.”

The acknowledgment that he hasn’t been very nice surprises me. He hasn’t been, but he’s been steadfastly acting like there’s nothing weird happening, so having him just say that is kind of a shock.

“I’m going to be grateful to you,” I say. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. If you’re going to own up to being difficult, don’t be a new kind of difficult on top of it.”

“I’ll try, but difficult is about the only thing I know how to do these days.”

Silence lapses between us for a moment.

“Apparently you also know how to write,” I say.

“Some would say.”

“What’s your favorite kind of scene to write?” I ask.

He gives me long-suffering side-eye. “Fight scene.”

I frown. “Least favorite scene to write.”

“Sex scene,” he says.

“Wow. I would be the opposite. Except I don’t really write physical fight scenes. Also, your books have sex in them?”

“Have you never read one of my books?” He looks genuinely baffled by this.

“No. I don’t tend to read male authors.”

“That’s sexist.”

“It’s not. Men don’t read women. I’ve always felt like if I don’t run out of women authors to read, I don’t need to worry about getting to the men. Plus, men write sad books.”

“It’s not only men who write sad books. Women write very sad books sometimes. Also, I read women.”

“Have you read me?”

“No,” he says. “I don’t read romance.”

“I don’t read dude books.”

He stares at me. “Dude books?”

“Yeah. You know. What did you say about it a couple of years ago ... acts of heroism, blowing shit up?”

“Don’t underestimate the entertainment value of a good explosion.”

I laugh and drain the rest of my margarita. “Since you’re doing this for me, I promise I will read whatever book you’re going to have sent to the event.”

“Well, I await your review with bated breath.”

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