Page 41 of Party Favors

“Yes, I appreciate the insight, Dr. Aprile,” he said, giving me a slight nod.

“Sorry for going deep. I’ve never been a big fan of small talk.”

“Me either.” He paused and then looked the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Had I shared too much about my dysfunctional childhood? “Here. I got you this.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a single red rose.

I caught my breath and put a hand over my stomach. “What’s this for?”

“To thank you for taking such good care of my things,” he said.

It felt a little like a freight train slamming into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. He meant it as a token of his appreciation. Not as an indication of something more.

When was I going to stop reading so much into every innocent thing he was doing?

Last night I’d been worried that he would accuse me of keeping his stuff deliberately and being obsessed with him, like that guy Vella had gone out with. It was a relief to see that wasn’t the case. That he had even brought me a thoughtful gift to thank me.

Or if he’d thought it, at least he’d had the courtesy not to say as much.

I reached for the rose and was careful to avoid brushing my fingers against his. It was the first time anyone had given me a flower. I wanted to thank him but worried that if I did, I might actually start to cry. I joked instead. “You don’t know that I took good care of your stuff. I might have taken a hammer to your phone screen and dragged your coat through the streets.”

“You wouldn’t.” He said it with such surety and confidence, like he knew me and didn’t have a single doubt in his mind.

“You’re right. I didn’t. But I am sorry about inadvertently committing grand theft coat.” I walked over to the coffee table, where I’d put his things, and handed them back to him.

Now he was going to say his goodbyes and someday I would tell my grandchildren about the time I met and hung out with a hot Monterran man who made my knees wobble and how he had been very nice to me.

“Have you been up to anything exciting since I last saw you?” he asked, as he walked over to the couch and sat down.

I was in such shock that he didn’t head for the door that I wasn’t sure what to do or how to react. I stood there for a few beats, my heart pounding and my mind racing. Why had he sat down?

As if he sensed my inner turmoil, he gave me a quizzical look. Which was well deserved, given that I was behaving like someone who had never spoken to a man before.

I had to head this off before I wound up in some embarrassing place. Which was kind of where I was currently living. Mayor of Humiliationville, Population: Me.

Taking in a deep breath, I walked over and sat in one of Adrian’s extremely uncomfortable and weirdly shaped chairs that flanked his coffee table. It took me a second to figure out how to sit in it but I finally settled in.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to revamp my life. Make new choices,” I told him. “I made a list this morning.”

“What brought this on?” He put his arm along the back of the couch, and it took every bit of strength I had not to go over there and snuggle up next to him.

And meeting him was what had made me want to change things, but that wasn’t something I was going to confess. Because I knew how this conversation was going to go. I would indicate interest in him; he would look at me sympathetically. I couldn’t bear to hear him say, “You’re a really nice girl, but ...” He’d tell me he wasn’t looking for anything serious. Nobody ever wanted to hear that from a cute guy because it was so demoralizing. But from a man like Max? Perfect Saint Max?

It would be devastating.

Despite me telling him he should take risks, I was not willing to risk my own heart just to get it inevitably bruised, if not broken.

This would all be a lot easier if I said it. Then I wouldn’t have to wait for the axe to inevitably fall. I’d just rip off the Band-Aid now.

I tried to shrug nonchalantly, sure that I hadn’t pulled it off. “I realized that if I wanted something else, something better, in my life, I was going to have to do things differently. And one of my resolutions is to make more friends. As much as I don’t want to sound like I’m in first grade right now, I’d really like it if you and I could be friends.”

There. I was the one who said “friends only” so that he couldn’t do it first. I was going to keep my potential humiliation in check. I recognized that this was probably coming across strangely to him—but I had put myself up on a shelf for so long that I no longer knew how to have a normal interaction with a guy.

Holding my breath, I studied his face for a reaction. Part of me desperately wanted him to disagree. To tell me he wasn’t interested in being only my friend.

To say he wanted something more.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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