Page 121 of The Best Men
“Yes,” she says, as if this weren’t a silly conversation. “Your split with Bridget was a year ago, Marky Mark. So you’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself anymore. It’s a rule.”
“I don’t,” I insist. “I’m just too busy in New York to date.”
“What about hookups?” she presses.
“Hannah! I’m not going to discussany of thosewith you.”
A sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve said too much. “Ooh! That means there’s something to discuss! Oh my God. This is great. Tell meeverything.”
How the hell do I get into these situations? But my sister will pry it out of me eventually, so it’s best to confess. “I had a hookup. But then it ended.”
“With who?” she squeals.
“I believe that’s withwhom.”
“Mark! Spill.”
I sit down on the edge of the tub and sigh. “It’s tricky,” I say, and then I cringe. Because that makes it sound clandestine. Like my hookup was with a cheater or something.
At least, that’s how it sounded to me. But maybe not to Hannah, because she yelps with glee. “Omigod, was it Asher St. James? Omigod!”
Is she a mind reader? Hope not. “Now hang on. Why did your mind go straight there?”
“Because he’s hot, in the first place. Like,superhot. Your words. And because you stared at him during my wedding lunch. And because you came back the other day from an ‘errand’ looking tousled.”
I drag a hand along the back of my neck. “What the hell happened to my poker face?”
She giggles. “Was it amazing? I bet it was. But, wow, did you know he’s moving to Paris?”
“I’m aware,” I mutter.
Her voice drops. “Uh-oh. It was that good, huh? You sound sad.”
“Maybe. A little.” It feels good to admit that to her.
“Oh, poor Mark.”
“No,” I argue. “Don’t saypoor Mark. I’m fine. He doesn’t date, and it wouldn’t have worked. We’re too different.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Honestly, I can picture you two together. You need someone spontaneous in your life. And he could use someone grounded. Someone . . .real.”
Huh. Is that what Asher got out of our fling? Maybe I wasn’t merely amusement.
“You know his ex-boyfriend dumped him, right? He called Asher a hot mess and bailed.”
She must mean Garrett. The one who called Asher a bad boyfriend. The dick who left him for another guy. Who’d ever leave Asher? “Yeah. He’s the fuckwad who’s getting married, right?”
“Someone has a strong opinion on Asher’s ex. And so do I. He didn’t deserve Asher. But now Asher is convinced that he’s not a great boyfriend.”
That tracks with what he told me in bed the morning after we slept together for the first time. I file away the added intel about Asher’s past to think about later. Or not. Because I don’t suspect his past romances even matter. “He lives in Paris now. So I guess we’ll never know.”
“Never say never. Isn’t that job only for a year?”
Like I haven’t thought that too. But those thoughts are too risky for a guy who nearly got his heart broken. “A year is a long time, Hannah. He’ll probably meet a French guy and they’ll go off and eat baguettes and brie together, and drink wine on the Pont des Arts.”
“Or not,” she says brightly, because she’s on her honeymoon, and the whole world is a happy place for her.
As it should be.
