Page 16 of The List
“All my life. Well, except for college. I went to Oregon State all the way through school—undergrad, grad school, my doctorate. How about you?”
“Stanford,” I say, then regret it.
She cocks her head and looks at me oddly. “And you work in a computer repair shop?”
“Yeah.” Crap. The last thing I need is for her to figure out I don’t actually work there, but I own the whole damn chain.
“I lived in LA for a little while, but I’ve been in Portland for eight years,” I tell her, diverting her from the subject of my career path. “I like it here. The weather’s nice and mild, and the skiing’s good in the wintertime.”
“You ski?”
“Yes. Do you?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve wanted to try it, but I’ve never gotten around to it.”
“I can teach you sometime.”
That was a dumb thing to say. We’ve agreed this a temporary thing. Just a chance to satisfy some sexual urges for us both. The odds of us even knowing each other by the time the next ski season rolls around are the same as my odds of becoming an opera singer. Did I mention I’m tone deaf?
I wait to see if Cassie will say anything about my verbal blunder, but she takes a sip of wine and toys with her hair. She has it down instead of in a topknot this evening, and I think about how it will feel to wrap my fingers up in it and tug.
“So…you swear you’re not married?”
I sputter into my wineglass at the abruptness of the question. I shake my head and set down the glass. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I’m not married. Never have been.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“No girlfriend, either. Or fiancée. Or regular fuck buddy, in case you’re wondering.”
I watch her brows lift in surprise, and I can tell she wants to ask more. I consider telling her right then and there about my abysmal track record with women. About how one girlfriend after another chose to cut and run when she realized life with me wasn’t all luxury spa getaways and shopping trips to Paris.
It’s picnics in the park with Junie. It’s battling the system to make sure she has every opportunity she can get. It’s about letting my kid sister know I have her back, no matter what.
But sharing that much detail with Cassie would open the door to questions I’m not ready to answer.
Instead, I settle for a half-truth. “Serious relationships aren’t really my thing,” I tell her. “I’m just not cut out for it.”
She nods and sips her wine, and I’m glad to see no trace of disappointment on her face. In fact, she looks relieved.
“Good,” she says. “They’re not my thing, either.”
“You’ve never been married?”
“Nope. Not planning on it, either. I’m not really wired to be a good little wifey, planning dinner parties and playing tennis at the country club.”
“And that’s a requirement of marriage?”
“It is in my family.”
“I see.”
“My sisters are?—”
She stops herself there, and I wonder what she was about to say. Her expression is soft, almost wistful. When she speaks again, her voice is lower. “I love them dearly. Lisa taught me to ride a bike, and Missy once slapped a boy on the playground after he made fun of me for having dirty fingernails.”
“But?”
I’m not sure how I know there’s a “but,” but I can tell from her expression there is.
