Page 26 of The Hang Up

“Right. When did you meet him again?”

I ignored her. Tried to ignore her.

“How about this. When did he strike it rich?” she asked, her hands flying as she worked.

“I have no idea.”

“That dog-eared copy of Forbes you keep in your locker says differently.”

I glared at her. “Fine. 2005.”

“You were just graduating from kindergarten, right?”

“I was in first grade, Nev. Your point?”

“No point. Just…” She gave me her mothering look that she was still trying to perfect. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s a terrible idea. I have no delusions about that.”

I could feel her stare—oozing sympathy, no doubt—and ignored it.

“Neither of you seem like the fuck-and-run type.”

“What?” I glanced over at her.

“You know. Dick and dash?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “That’s not a thing—stop talking.”

She nudged her shoulder against mine. “You both are the forever type.”

“I can…dash.”

She laughed. “You can’t even say it. But one of you needs to be able to say that this is just for fun and you’re not getting serious. Can you be that person?”

“I can be casual.”

“Name one time.”

“I dated…ish a guy for two weeks.”

“Two weeks of romance or two weeks of fucking?”

Sticking my head in an oven wouldn’t feel as hot as my face right now. I didn’t answer.

“Or was it two weeks of trying to go out and you canceling and then doing it—sex. The fucking—once and calling the entire thing off.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” she said, nudging me again. “That’s just a perk.”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

“Being a forever type of guy is fine. It’s wonderful, actually. With the right guy. Why didn’t the two-week hookup work out?”

“Jesus, Nev. I don’t know.” I shoved the jars back where they belonged. “Maybe he wasn’t the right guy.”

“Or…maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t Joshua.”

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